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The Age of the Digital Precog: How AI Predicts Our Every Move
Just like the precogs could glimpse future events, AI sifts through enormous amounts of data to make informed guesses about what we’ll do next.
Whats On My Mind Today? Who Are You? How to passively gather personal information is a fascinating look into how businesses, marketers, and tech giants employ techniques to connect your protected data to the information you freely share. Passive information gathering means collecting data about a person without actively seeking it or requiring direct interaction. This can happen through…
#AI data gathering#ChatGPT#data transparency#digital privacy#digital surveillance#IoT privacy#MidJourney#passive data collection#personal privacy#predictive AI#public records#social media analysis#synthetic data
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Big Conversation
Collection: Desperate to Devoted Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 1100 Summary: Life keeps moving forward, and so does the relationship that has completely turned around between you and Bucky, including how that will look now in your shared workplace.
Content/Warnings: fluff, new relationship feels
Author Notes: Week five piece for @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer - the prompt was "We're..." with friends with benefits, exes, and enemies to lovers as options - and ticking off TEASING to catch up on January for Build-a-Bucky Bingo.
You were so immersed in studying the map and interpreting the data points on your screen with Conor that you didn’t notice the hush that washed over what was a typical hubbub of noise outside your office, or else you might have guessed someone with A Name in the agency had hit the floor.
Instead, it was the decisive knock on your doorframe that brought you out of deep concentration.
When your eyes clocked the Winter Soldier there, a warm smile split across your face. “Sergeant Barnes! Is it already eleven-thirty?” you asked, glancing down at your watch.
“Nearly,” he replied, smiling back, but you noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Eyes that were scrutinizing the man standing just over your shoulder.
“Bucky, this is Conor Sullivan.”
“I’m the director of the digital media analysis team,” Conor said, his Irish accent more pronounced than usual, and instead of straightening, he maintained the stance he’d adopted to look over your shoulder at the screens.
“I’m an Avenger,” Bucky offered.
You bit your lip to keep from giggling.
The posturing energy in the room was painfully palpable.
“We’ve been looking over the latest social media trends, crossing referencing that with reports we’re getting from some of our agents, and the leads Joaquin has been pursuing in Eastern Europe. The activity of the Flag Smashers is absolutely heating up again, and there’s some definite indicators that some potential leaders of the group may be circling in Tirana.”
“I look forward to the briefing – it’s always gratifying when a hunch my team has turns out to have traction,” Bucky’s words were slightly stilted. “Maybe we put something on the books for after lunch. Do you think your findings will be ready by then, Sullivan?”
“More than enough time, Barnes,” Conor responded.
“Even without this analysis mastermind?” Bucky asked, gesturing to you. “We have a date with HR at eleven-thirty.”
“A date?” Conor asked.
“Sorry,” Bucky quickly corrected, “I meant to say meeting.”
You tried to discreetly put your hand to your stomach to hold in the laughter. This was too much.
“We have a meeting with HR to officially disclose our relationship status,” Bucky further explained.
“Oh, I didn’t know,” Conor started, abruptly straightening.
“Of course not, you’re working with one of the most consummate professionals around, she’s never been messy in the workplace.”
“Not true,” you interjected, your cheeks heating slightly. “I used to be fairly passive aggressive and petty towards you.”
“But you did it in a way that you somehow always maddeningly remained above actual reproach,” Bucky said. “We’re one of those classic enemies to lovers romances for the ages. What do they call it now? End game? Like Taylor and Travis.”
You tilted your head, but you did not risk looking at Conor.
“Taylor and Travis?”
“Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce,” Bucky explained. “There was no animosity for them to overcome, but the true love, end game thing.”
“I… should let you get to your meeting, then,” Conor said, some reticence in his tone.
Bucky came further into your office and Conor passed him on the way out.
Bucky squared his shoulders and didn’t relax his intimidating gaze for one second, but Conor was formidable in his own right – only an inch shorter and with maybe twenty pounds less of muscle, the charming, blond, Irish man didn’t pass for someone who you’d expect to work the office side of things in this building.
“You used to date that guy?” Bucky asked two beats after he’d gone, a boyish, smirking grin on his face as he turned back to you.
“Two dates,” you reminded him, “only two dates, and it was more than a year ago.”
“What kind of name is Conor Brady? Could he be more Irish?”
You laughed. “Your names is James.”
“But I go by Bucky,” he countered, reaching out a hand.
You stood and stepped right up to him, twining your fingers with his. “End game?” you changed the line of post-encounter questioning.
Bucky tugged you close with the one hand, and his vibranium hand came up to cup your cheek. “We haven’t said it with those words, but that enemies wave we rode out? The ordeal just outside of Paris? The past six weeks with you since then? Unless you’re not convinced, I’m all in for the long haul.”
You pressed up on your tiptoes and kissed him in a blazing, euphoric heat. He returned the kiss, circling his arm around your waist while still keeping your fingers twined, and pressed your soft body against his chest.
You could kiss this man for an eternity, but you did finally press him away. “End game for me, too.”
“Yeah?”
The smitten smile on his face made you want to close your door and get to much more than kissing. The feelings that shone through his eyes made your heart swell.
“Yeah,” you affirmed and delivered a quick peck.
Everything with him had always been intense, strong, deep feelings. Now that they were rooted in care and affection, it only made you more sure every day since you’d finally broken down the walls and defenses that had been there before.
“That possessive streak looked good on you,” you teased, but he grinned.
“You like knowing you’re my girl?”
“That’s why we’re declaring our intentions to HR,” you said. “Now let’s go make it official, and then maybe I’ll show you in the back of your car just how much I like it.”
“Damn,” Bucky groaned, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead briefly to yours. “I’m holding you to that.”
You kissed him again, just one more time.
Then you giggled.
“What?” Bucky asked, echoing with a half laugh.
“You really said enemies to lovers?”
“You loved it.”
“And Taylor and Travis?”
“You know I was there next to you when you were scrolling through video after video of London night three last weekend and then Dublin this weekend. I’m invested in them now, too. I can appreciate a man who unapologetically loves his woman.”
“Bucky,” you breathed, heart aching and swelling for this man. He smiled and pulled you out of your office, and you followed happily. He was everything, gave you all the shades you’d hoped to find, someone who was proving to be a true other half, and you couldn’t wait for the days and weeks and months and years ahead and all the ways he’d make you laugh, make you melt, and sometimes both at the same time.
NEXT PART: Too Hot
We've come a long way from their start in Desperate, but I just... want them to be in love and happy and get to have fun moments now. I can't help it! 🫠
↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#build a bucky bingo 2023#bucky barnes x you#hotbuckysummer2024#aspen wrote something#female reader#desperate to devoted
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could write on the male reader fucked Sebastian Solace after he made a deal when the male reader was short on data/documents on getting a medkit or flashlight
Free Fishsticks?!
Pairing: Sebastian Solace x Male Reader Word Count: 2.4k Content: Porn ahead (MDNI), coerced sex kinda, intersex Sebastian, top reader, Sebastian is down bad as FUCK, i don't really know how this anatomy works or just sex in general but im trying my best (born to jork it forced to research) Summary: Stupidly attempting a run without picking up any data, you get desperate for a medkit. Sebastian offers a deal.
AO3 ver.
Your legs completely ached from the mimic door you just walked into, and your heart probably needed a bandaid for that attack you just had. It wasn’t your fault, you told yourself - the room was dark, courtesy of Froger, and you didn’t have a light source, so you quickly walked into the first door you saw. Painter appeared on the door node and called you a moron, which honestly you were for doing this run, but you flipped him off anyway as soon as you could stand. Yeah, fuck that guy. Both of them. Good People tried to claw at your leg as you fell on your back, and it hurt like a bitch. You were also attacked by a squiddle for using a lantern you picked up earlier, and that ran out (because you wouldn’t admit it, but you weren’t using that sparingly), so you had no light source and were on the literal verge of death. That lantern was actually the only object you picked up this entire run, as you were trying to do some sort of speedrun without searching for data. You had a couple handfuls, maybe 75 research points, but not much. This wasn’t exactly going well, obviously. You were able to dodge Angler a few times, a wall dweller, and Froger just now, but the blacksite was an unforgiving place, and you had sorely fucked up. Your first priority was a medkit. Luckily, the next room you stumbled into was marked ‘52’, which meant that soon you’d run into Sebastian. But you wouldn’t even be able to afford a medkit from him – they were more than double the amount of research you had collected, from what you could remember, and you doubt he liked you – or anyone, for that matter – enough to give you a free medkit. Limping your way into the next few rooms with no hassle, checking behind you cautiously, you walked into door 55. A vent pried itself open in front of you, Sebastian’s voice inviting you in. You took a deep breath, dropping down to your sore knees to crawl into the vent. You’d just get in, grab the keycard, and go. Simple. Darkness was initially the one to be the first you see, but as Sebastian’s light bulb flickered on, your eyes met his. A smile crept up on his face, which you always assumed was inauthentic. “Ah, had a feeling it’d be you. My favourite customer~” Sebastian greeted, his hands clasped together as he gazed down at you with his triad of unsettlingly bright blue eyes, keeping that toothy smile on his face. It almost looked genuine. You ducked your head away and immediately went for the keycard, hobbling on your better leg and then ducking straight into the vents. Sebastian’s voice stopped you midway. “You aren’t even gonna buy anything? Seriously?” His voice lilted, confusion being the undertone to his words. “I’ve got a medkit right here. Buy it.” You hung your head ashamedly, sighing to yourself. “I… don’t have enough data,” You responded, embarrassed. “Really? You didn’t collect any research?” His voice echoed back flatly. “That’s stupid.” Yeah, it sure was. You pulled yourself back inside the shop, sitting against the wall with your head in your hands, rubbing your temples. “Yeah, I know.” You snapped back passive aggressively. “Fuck, I’d do anything for a medkit right now…”You muttered to yourself. You definitely wouldn’t be doing a run like this again. The room went silent for a moment. Honestly, you were just taking a breather, but it seems another metaphorical light bulb grew on his head. “Well. Let me cut you a deal then,” He started, the smile on his face growing even bigger. Your head perked up. A deal, huh? “Like what?” “A medkit… On the house.” The way he said it sounded enticing, but it’s not like you would decline something like that anyway.
You raised your eyebrow, willing to see this through. “In exchange for?” He bit his lip. “Sleeping with me.” “What?” You blurted out, sounding a little more repulsed than you’d like to have. Your eyes widened and you immediately looked up at him in the eyes. His smug ass smile unwavering, he locked eye contact with you, raising a non existent eyebrow. “I don’t think I stuttered.” He stated, giving you a look that made your face heat up and butterflies swarm inside your stomach.
“Listen, you can’t imagine how pent up I’ve been, alone down here for the past decade. A man has his needs, you know, and you might be one to sate them.” Before you knew it, he was leaning down to your level, smirking expectantly. “Well? It’s just like any other transaction. I doubt you haven’t thought about it before~” He teased, bringing a claw to your face, swooping it behind your ear and down your cheek. You know what? He was right. You agreed embarrassingly fast. You definitely had a thing for the fish guy, and you were gonna stop denying it now. “O-Okay. Yeah. I mean, yes, to the deal, I mean. Sure.” You cursed at yourself internally for stuttering, probably making yourself sound stupid. He chuckled at your eagerness, making you avert your eyes bashfully.
“Good.” He retreated backwards, clearing his throat as you stood up carefully. You both stared at each other for a moment, as if unsure where to go from here, but you were broken from your trance when Sebastian started to unbuckle the clips around his tail and remove the SCRAMBLER from his back. He looked back at you when he noticed you were still staring.
“...Well? Are you gonna just stand there?” He deadpanned, before you gestured to your leg. “I still need a medkit.”
“Oh.” He looked back at your leg, as if he almost forgot you were bleeding out in his shop. He unclipped one from his tail and handed it to you, you giving him a delicate thanks in return. Grateful for the safety of the SCRAMBLER, you shimmied off your diving suit and gear until you were fully naked. You opened up the medkit, relieved that you were finally able to take care of your wounds.
By the time you were done bandaging yourself, Sebastian was stripped of his equipment, awkwardly looking around for a position he could settle himself into. After a few moments of watching him flop around for a bit, he found himself comfortable leaning back against the wall with his tail looping around to support him, a mess of thick curls on the floor.
You stood in front of him, analyzing his alien body. It was littered with scars all over, most from what you assumed were the experiments, a small amount being from the blacksite lockdown, probably. He had gills both on the sides of his torso and his neck, his body a mixture of beautiful shades and patterns of blue. The longer you stared, the more entranced you became. He was honestly so beautiful, more divine than any human you’d ever seen.
“Come here,” He coaxed with a smile, patting his ‘lap’ with his third arm. You obeyed, climbing onto him and straddling his lap with the rest of his tail able to support you. Looking at his genitals, you were a bit shocked by what you saw, but not in a bad way at all. 3 holes – the top one being the most prominent, an opening with something pink and glistening wet just slightly peeking out, the middle one seeming to just be a slit, and the bottom one as what you presumed was his asshole. Interesting anatomy. You did read about his document and him being mixed with specifically female anglerfish DNA, so that must’ve been in the mix with this.
Wordlessly, Sebastian chased a hand down to his crotch, slipping two digits into his top hole and wiggling something out. You watched in bewilderment as he fingered out 2 tentacle-like cocks from his hole.
“There,” He huffed, his cheeks dusted an odd shade of dark blue. “Now we can have some fun.”
He smiled smugly in response to viewing your wide-eyed shock, finding it utterly adorable. “Go on. Indulge, my pet.” He urged, reaching for one of his dicks and stroking it gently, watching for your next move. He shuddered as he touched himself, as if he’d been waiting for this kind of release for a long time, sensitive to the touch. You couldn’t imagine how long it’s been since he’d done anything sexual, let alone with a partner. You figured that might be why he invited (forced) you to spend this with him. Probably.
You swallowed nervously. Spitting on your hand, you decided to make do with what you had, which wasn’t much. Stroking yourself until you could deem yourself slicked up, ready to position yourself against… his slit, you think?
“So, do I, uhm.. Just… In here?-” You sheepishly asked, Sebastian groaning in response, narrowing his eyes. “Just put it in there already.” He growled, motioning his hand wrapped around his cock faster. You raised one of your hands in fake surrender, assuming he might just be really pent up.
Slowly, you slid yourself into his sopping hole, greeted by tepid, tight wetness. Sebastian held in a soft groan as you eased yourself in, staring down at your bodies hungrily. You never thought fish pussy would feel this good, but it did. And you never thought you’d say something like that to yourself, and never will again.
As soon as you bottomed out, you waited a moment to see if he was comfortable with you moving yet or not. Seeing as he didn’t protest, you patiently waited for him to relax. You gingerly stretched your arm out to rest on his chest for more support, feeling the surprisingly soft skin under your palms. It didn’t feel human at all, and that’s secretly what you liked about it. Sebastian noticed your hand, and didn’t say anything about it, quietly leaning his head back as he pleasured himself.
“Move.” He spoke after a short minute, making you obey. Slowly grinding yourself into him, you released quiet sounds of pleasure, resting your other hand on his hip for a better angle. Sebastian tried his best to keep himself as silent as possible, strained groans and soft pants being the only noises coming out of his mouth. You could tell he was holding back. And you didn’t particularly like it.
Attempting to tease a sound out of him, you reached for his untouched dick, closing a hand around it. Man, it was big. Maybe about half the length of your arm. Stroking it gently, experimenting with it, it felt slimy under your fingers, as what you assumed was pre coated itself on your fingers. It was slightly thicker than human pre, for sure. Sebastian’s reaction was slightly delayed, opening his eyes and seeing your hand wrapped around his cock. He shivered from the realization, his light bulb subtly dimming and brightening. Was he doing that the whole time? It was kinda cute.
You decided to speed it up, giving up on sitting awkwardly and instead planting your feet on the ground beside and between his looping tail for more leverage. From here you could properly slap your hips against his hole, despite how uncomfortable it might’ve been, but you were fine with it for now. Plowing yourself into him, you glanced up at Sebastian, focusing on his face for a minute. His cheeks were flush with blue, his lips pulled back in a tight grimace as he tried his best to keep in sound. His eyes were half-lidded, gazing down at where your crotches met.
Listening to the way he wheezed out a few pathetic grunts, you were sick of it and wanted more. You tugged on his dick harder, just in time with your thrusts, dragging them out before ramming back in. It worked. Sebastian threw his head back and moaned, and fuck, you loved it.
“Ngh- Fuck!” He yelled out, his arm reaching to grab onto a table next to you. You smirked to yourself triumphantly.
“Gonna stop being so quiet now?” You coaxed, returning to a slow pace. “Shut up.” He growled back, narrowing his eyes at you. You let go of his dick in response, hearing him softly whine at the absence of your hand.
“Seriously, start making some noise or I’m not gonna fuck you as good as I want to.” You gazed up at him, making eye contact as you watched him consider his words for a few seconds. He finally sighed, leaning back and trying to relax. “Fine.”
As you continued on, you noticed he was still getting comfortable with the prospect of making noise like this, but he was a bit louder for you this time. You eased back into a faster pace, slamming your hips against his hole as he moaned out for you.
“Fuck, that’s good… Keep going~” He breathed out, taking you by surprise, but sexually motivating you entirely. You worked faster for him, listening as he whimpered for you, slightly bucking up his body to meet your hips. Soon enough, he seemed to reach his climax, his bulb flickering for a few seconds as his mind went blank, mouth opening to release an inaudible scream. You pumped your hips harder as you raced to your own release, biting your lip as drool dribbled out from between your lips.
You were faced with the conscience of pulling out for just a second before strong hands grabbed your hips, preventing you from doing so anyway. Hot, white semen flooded into his hole, muffled noises coming from your mouth. You both laid there together, panting heavily as you recovered.
“Fuck… That was-” You huffed out, interrupted by Sebastian manoeuvring you onto your back with ease, putting you on the cold, hard floor. Your eyes widened, taken by surprise when he climbed on top of you, cum still pooling from his hole.
“I never said we were done.” He grumbled, a grin on his face as he mounted you, welcoming your cock back inside. You hissed, still coming down from your refractory period. “Wait, w-what the fu-” Interrupted again by the sensation of him grinding his body into you, a pleasant moan escaping him.
Well, you’d definitely be doing a run like this again.
#sebastian solace x reader#sebastian solace x male reader#yeah i give up on tumblr tagging#sebussy is GOOD#intersex sebastian because i said so#reposted on ao3#top male reader#smut#male reader
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By now, a majority of Autism researchers and clinicians are aware that the existing assessments for Autism are profoundly flawed.
They know the standard evaluation of Autism is sexist, with assessors excluding women for reasons like wearing makeup, having a boyfriend, being superficially polite, or not being fixated on suitably ‘masculine’ topics like ancient Roman history or barometric pressure.
They know Autism evaluations are racist, deeming Black Autistics “oppositionally defiant” or even “borderline” rather than acknowledging any social alienation or sensory pain they’re experiencing, and believing they must be overstating the difficulty they face in moving through the world.
And they certainly know that conventional Autism measures weren’t designed with adult Autistics in mind. Many of us are still asked to make up stories based on paintings of frogs in a toddler’s picture book, when we sit down for assessments at age 20, or 30, or 45 — because all the evaluation methods were written for young kids.
The data has already proven the far-reaching consequences of using such shoddy measures of Autism. People of color, gender minorities, older adults, and women are diagnosed at later ages, and also go undiagnosed at massive rates.
A growing population of scientists are admittedly interested in fostering a new literature of what they call “patient-driven” Autism research, but they never stop thinking of us as mere patients, the passive receivers of care rather than the leaders of communities and political movements who are the ought to be the primary authors of the studies about us, and the sole determinants of what our desired outcomes should be. Even when they observe that their work could benefit from a greater Autistic perspective, researchers do so from closed rooms, filled with other professionals who are largely not Autistic, wondering amongst themselves what it is that we want instead of learning to quiet their voices and follow our lead.
Though many basically well-intentioned Autism researchers believe that Autism assessments need reform, what neurodiversity really needs is to abandon the diagnostic process altogether. If Autism is a benign, neutral, naturally occurring form of human difference that requires acceptance rather than a cure, then there’s no need to diagnose it as if it were a sickness. And if hundreds of thousands of Autistic women, people of color, queer people, and older people have been able to give a voice to ourselves and find one another without having ever been given a label by a professional, then improved professional labeling is not what we need.
Autistic self-realization is the future of Autism assessment. We hold the collective wisdom, organizing ability, insight, and political power to define who we are. No authority figure should have to sign off on our identities.
Because psychiatrists fail to diagnose such a large percentage of the Autistic population, many Autism researchers now accept self-identified Autistic adults within their subject pool. Within the peer-reviewed journal Autism in Adulthood, self-realized Autistics often make up the bulk of the participant sample, and they have repeatedly been found to be indistinguishable from their formally diagnosed peers.
A growing body of research now also considers the presence of Autism-spectrum traits as qualifying for inclusion in many Autism studies. The data makes it quite obvious that Autistic people exist within all human groups, spread all throughout the world, and that a great many people have experiences in common with us who have not been formally diagnosed. This itself reveals that a formal diagnosis is hardly necessary, and that a psychiatric paradigm of accepting self-identification is inevitable. The researchers are increasingly already doing it.
You can read the full essay for free (or have it narrated to you!) at this link.
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hi!
just saw your pictures of you doing some marine biology fieldwork and i just wondered if you have any stories about the experience that you would like to share. Im in 1st year uni right now and i have no idea what im gonna specialize in other than “science!!” but i work on boats for my job right now (tallships, very cool stuff) and so marine environment work really appeals to me. If you have the time, I would love to get a picture of what the work you’re doing entails.
(What does the day-to day of marine biology research look like? What kind of stuff are you studying/information are you gathering? Whats it like? Is it awesome? feel free to answer none of these also)
thank you!!
OH, I'm jealous - it's a dream of my mine to get to work on a tallship. & I love to talk about this stuff!
In all honesty, the day-to-day changes pretty dramatically depending on what project work is available. Right now, as a student, a lot of what I'm involved in ties into coursework or research that's happening at the university! I volunteer with a couple different labs, and there's a huge variety of stuff to get in on. For example:
Last Saturday, I spent about six hours pulling otoliths and gonads out of eighty invasive roi, taape, and toau caught by local spearfishermen. Otoliths are the ear bones of fish, and similar to the rings of a tree, they have ringed annuli that can give a lot of information about the life history of the individual species. We cast these otoliths in resin, and then cut cross-sections to look at them under the microscope. The hope is that this information will help us understand when these species become reproductive, and how to control their populations.
The last several Fridays, I've been involved with an effort to collect some water quality and plankton data after a lot of heavy rain. This work was out on the boats, and we used deep and shallow drogues, YSI, light meter, secchi disk, and a couple plankton nets, moving out from the swollen rivermouth and into deeper, saltier water.
Last month, I spent a lot of time on invertebrate snorkel surveys, mostly looking for presence/absence in the nearshore. Next Tuesday, I'll be doing fish surveys in the same location. The Wednesday after I'm hopping on a wetlands restoration project & removing invasive bull grass, and a night snorkel afterwards. Next Friday is a lab day, working to process the plankton samples we've collected, and I'll be in the coral nursery afterwards. That's the really fun thing about university - there's so much different work going on, all the time!
In the summers, outside of school, that work is just as varied. I've really enjoyed having jobs that allow me to do a little bit of everything, and thus far, my supervisors have been very supportive of me in that. Here's some other projects I've gotten to work on, all within just one position:
Servicing passive monitoring systems! These are pictures of my replacing a SEABIRD logger, which has been taking a water temperature measurement every thirty seconds for the past 360 days. This helps conservation managers track heatwaves in sensitive ecosystems. We prepped new loggers with batteries and SD cards and waterproof tape to prevent biofouling, and then used snips and zipties to make the switch.
Scientific fishing! This helps get life history and population data for our target species, large pelagic fish. We collected biopsy samples, placed tags, and released primarily ahi, but also ono, and mahi. (Full disclaimer: this picture is from a subsistence fishing trip and not a scientific one, where people generally have too many things in their hands & are moving too quickly to take pictures. He was a very delicious dinner for our crew, though.)
Other marine tagging! I got to assist with bluewater cetacean tagging of several different dolphin and small whale species, and shark tagging for galapagos, blacktip reef, grey reef, and dusky sharks. Cetacean tagging was done with an air rifle, not easy at high speeds on the boat. Shark tagging was more hands-on, as we had to manually apply the tags.
Coral reef monitoring! The mission of these surveys was to track coral health through heat stress events, and to identify harmful species. I'm looking under the coral head in these pictures for crown-of-thorns starfish, one of the most urgent species threats to reefs in the Pacific.
This is the bastard. Notice the dead coral around him.
Oh I'm about to smack into the photo limit, huh. Please hold!
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Very specific TWST head cannons
Jack was accidentally given alcohol by a third year at a party because they thought he was also a third year.
Ruggie would make bets with students if they can guess Jack's age correctly.
Malleus would stay back at after the final class of the day just to sing, he likes the sound of the empty class room. He stopped doing that because a rumor about a "haunted class" was spreading.
Sebek yelled so hard one time, he couldn't talk the next day due to the pain.
Vil watches those self care videos, as in the earwax removal, black head removal, technically any of those gross removal videos. It's a guilty pleasure of his.
Cater is a hot cheeto girl, he and Idia would make ramen and put hot cheetos in it.
Silver is a heavy sleeper...like heavy sleeper. One time a fire broke out in Diasomnia and everyone was screaming. Only after the fire was out did he wake up.
Malleus used to talk to stuff animals as a kid.
Sebek monologues to himself, and everyone can hear him.
Sebek when he was a kid chased another child with a broken ruler for saying Malleus' name in vain.
Riddle and Jamil have this weird friendship, basically it's just them trying to relax but remembering there are idiots who are in the dorms and can't rest until they get things done.
Each dorm has their own WiFi router, Idia usually hacks into the others in case Ignihyde's one is down or he just want to see people's search history.... Let's just say he's not comfortable around certain classmates.
Idia permanently puts Ortho on child lock so people won't ask him to look up not so friendly things on the internet.
Ortho can get sick from viruses or corrupted data he accidentally downloaded.
Jade and Rook have a passive aggressive rivalry. Like imagine them in the botanical garden having lunch and Jade handed him a poison mushroom infused tea and Rook just 'accidentally' pours it in a plant watching it wither. While looking Jade dead in the eyes, both have smiles on there faces, as they passive aggressively try to kill each other.
Cater x Jade or Rook would be so fucking funny. Like imagine dating the most dangerous students in the school but hey at least the dick is crazy.
Trey has a collection of his baby teeth and his siblings baby teeth on his night stand. No-one brings it up...ever.
another reason why Cater doesn't eat sweets is because he'll get a tooth ache just eating a smore.
A student once asked Crewel if it was possible to make 'crack' in potionology..... Crewel wasn't getting paid enough for this.
Crowley has committed tax evasion.
Azul Is thicc. I said what I said, and don't boo me. I'm right.
Ruggie is banned from Monstro Lounge due to finding loop holes in Azul's contracts and getting free stuff.
Malleus hates cake with too much frosting, It defeats the purpose of the cake.
Malleus would use fae circles to teleport prefect to him.
Floyd likes to just bite things, especially his phone case.
Rook takes the best photos.
Sometimes people forget that Vil is an actor and model, so when seeing him in a movie, commercial or magazine they just get jump scared and remembered .
" oh yeah....Housewarden Vil is a celebrity.."
I think prefect is desensitized to meeting famous or high status people that they're not a big deal to them. Imagine Prefect going to a cafe and THE KALIM AL ASIM Is paying for their drink, everyone is shocked that someone who's richer than royalty is paying for you and all you say is " Oh thanks Kalim. "
I feel like up to book 6 every dorm leader helped out in repairing Ramshackle adding there own piece of their dorms in there. A gaming room from Idia, A luxurious bathroom with skin care supplies and designer clothes from Vil, pantry and groceries from Heartslaybul and Scarabia and a cook book from Trey and Jamil respectively. An indoor and outdoor pool from Savannah claw, wallpaper and decor from Azul, and finally furniture and jewelry from Malleus.
#twst headcanons#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland shitpost#heartslabyul#riddle rosehearts#azul ashengrotto#jamil viper#kalim al asim#floyd leech#deuce spade#twisted wonderland original character
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It's not just the Black Keys. Why are so many big tours selling poorly? Stereogum | June 11, 2024 | by Zach Schonfeld
long (and US focused) but still quite interesting article on the current state of concert touring, why tours are getting cancelled or downsized, and what's up with ticket pricing. (my selected excerpts/highlights under the cut)
[excerpt, all highlights mine]
[Eric Renner Brown, a senior editor at Billboard] adds, “I do think [The Black Keys] are an artist that can fill those rooms still. I think the demand is there in terms of people who want to see Black Keys. But perhaps at that price point, the demand was not there.”
Ostensibly, agents and promoters should have access to data that can give them a better sense of demand. But they often place outsized importance on raw streaming numbers.
“The data is very confusing,” says the anonymous booking agent. “There’s a lot of passive listeners for data. You can have millions upon millions of streams, but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna turn into tickets. The opposite is, there are some artists who don’t have many streams at all and they can sell like 2,000, 3,000 tickets.”
[..]
It’s worth noting that the Black Keys have released four albums since returning from hiatus in 2019, and toured arenas as recently as 2022. This may be a case of oversaturating the market.
The band’s 2019 and 2022 arena runs weren’t exactly sold out. In between, the band left their longtime manager in 2021, signing with Irving Azoff and Steve Moir at Full Stop Management. Some sources speculate that Azoff, a former CEO of Ticketmaster, may have encouraged ambitious touring plans. On Thursday, Billboard reported that the group has now parted ways with Azoff and Moir. (The management company did not respond to a request for comment.)
“Essentially, you have some very big managers that are out of touch with the granular finesse and nuance of ticketing,” says another anonymous booking agent. “And they have these large expectations and they tell their agents what they want. And the agents are probably texting each other on the side, going, ‘This man is out of his fucking mind.’ But they do it anyway because, in the case of Black Keys, they’re not gonna challenge Irving Azoff.”
[..]
One contributing factor to instability in the touring industry is the rising cost of… well, everything. It’s part of why ticket prices are so high; it’s also part of the reason some acts are backing out of touring commitments.
Bands at all levels have been sounding the alarm about this for years. In 2022, for instance, Animal Collective canceled European tour dates and explained, “We simply could not make a budget for this tour that did not lose money even if everything went as well as it could.”
Industry insiders say that’s not uncommon. “Everything is ridiculously expensive,” says a tour manager who works with major acts and asked not to be named. “There’s not enough gear for everyone to share, so the vendors are having to pay high amounts for equipment. A single bus for a six-week tour can cost $100,000. Multiple that by multiple buses, and then trucks, and then crews are at a minimum, so they’re getting top rate right now because there’s not enough crews.”
COVID, of course, exacerbated this crunch. “What happened after the pandemic is, everyone was ready to tour at once,” the tour manager says. “There’s not enough gear to cover all of that. A lot of bands have had to cancel tours because they don’t have gear or they couldn’t afford the gear,” the tour manager continued. “I was on a tour with somebody last year where we had to book a private jet because there were no buses available. For the first week of the tour, we had to charter planes.”
Acts are thus incentivized to book bigger venues to recoup the costs of touring. The catch-22 is that bigger venues necessitate more elaborate stage production, which makes for a more expensive tour.
“There’s the expectation to have that production,” says the tour manager. “If people went back to having just two trusses of lights and a P.A. and no frills, it was just about the music, they can afford to tour. But everyone wants to see those flashing lights. Everyone wants to see that video.”
“So much of the economics of these big tours is completely invisible to fans and consumers,” says Kevin Erickson, director of Future of Music Coalition, a nonprofit advocacy group. “You can sell out a tour and come back in the red if there was a cost overrun or a miscalculation.”
For mid-level acts with sizable followings, these frustrations are compounded by a lack of suitable mid-sized venues.
“For a band that maybe has assessed its demand in the market to be in the 8K range or something for capacity, where are they going to go if that sort of venue doesn’t exist?” says Brown. “And if, say, the local theater that seats 3K or 4K can’t accommodate two or three nights, it can only put them for one night on the tour routing. That’s a real concern.”
[..]
At the end of the day, it all comes back to price. The average ticket price for one of the top 100 tours rose from $91.86 to $122.84 between 2019 and 2023. Concerts are too damn expensive, and there’s a growing sense of consumer frustration with shows that cost as much as airline tickets.
-> read the full article here on Stereogum.com
#recommended reading!#this should answer a lot of questions for everyone who were up in arms after the asian tour cancellation last year...#about the current touring climate and costs#streaming numbers ≠ ticket sales#..should not be that big a surprise for industry people and yet..#also that azoff anecdote.. who's surprised lol#touring#music industry#live music#article#stereogum#11.06.24#the black keys#music business#link#m
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I said the game demands microtransactions, not that it requires them. That's not just me being pedantic about wording, but rather a big indication of how the developers designed the game to work. Pokemon Sleep doesn't want you to play for free and is designed to make playing-without-paying a worse experience.
Like many free-to-play games out there, they operate on the idea of monetizing convenience and "fear of missing out" (FOMO). Such games will either create a problem in order to sell you a solution, or rely on a rotating/limited availability of enviable items to encourage impulse buying to avoid losing the chance to have the item. Pokemon Sleep does both of these.
Despite Pokemon Sleep being presented as a passive "something in the background while you sleep" kind of novelty, that's not the actual gameplay at all. The game actually wants you to be extremely active and paying a lot of attention to it non-stop, along with encouraging you to get others involved as well. Up to 500 potential invitations with a 50 individual approval list of contacts, specifically, and the system "helpfully" lets you link to your Google, Apple, or Facebook accounts in order to facilitate that and further scoop up lots of personal data for advertising.
The basic gameplay cycle of Pokemon Sleep is that you have a 7-day period in which you can power up your Snorlax as much as possible, with a higher power score equaling a greater variety of visiting Pokemon for you to catch. Visiting Pokemon will appear in a variety of sleeping types, of which there are at least 415 to collect (with individual Pokemon having multiple sleeping types). These Pokemon can also be "befriended" by giving them a sufficient number of items, which means they'll then join your team and help you boost Snorlax's power score over time. You can further boost Snorlax's score by feeding it, which the game encourages you to do three times per day within a given time window. Your Helper Pokemon will supply you with ingredients to make meals for Snorlax at different intervals, and the meals you make have different potencies based on the ingredients used.
So, to summarize, you have a limited period in which to get a number as big as it can be, with various randomized factors able to improve the rate of progression, before it all resets and you're back to square one.
Yes, you absolutely can play this game without spending any money. But the game itself is designed in a way that urges you to spend money at every turn. Every element of gameplay is improved if you spend money, and will actively degrade in effectiveness and quality if you don't. Remember how you can befriend Pokemon to help you out with getting Snorlax's score up? That's faster and easier if you spend money. Those same Helpers who gather ingredients for you? They lose Energy (an arbitrary limit put in place by the game system) the longer they're around, and become worse at gathering ingredients the less Energy they have. But, good for you! You can just buy more Energy for them! Rather, you have to make two purchases - the Energy-restoring item only gives back 50% of their Energy, so you need to buy two in order to max them out again. And you can just buy a box of random ingredients too! How convenient! And if you really want to get the most out of sleeping, you can buy the monthly auto-renewing (until you manually cancel it through Google or Apple, not the game app itself) Premium Membership! Which literally makes your sleep more valuable than the same - or even higher quality - sleep of people who aren't Premium members! But you better buy fast, because all of these items for sale are on a rotating schedule and will swap out of the shop at different 15 or 30-day intervals. You wouldn't want to miss your chance, would you?
A core facet of microtransaction pricing is that it's intentionally and carefully designed to never be enough. You'll always be in a position where you need to buy just a little more than the minimum, and it always comes out at odd numbers that never fit exactly where they need to in order to maximize your purchase, and are priced in unorthodox values specifically to trick the buyer's brain into thinking it's a better deal than it is. With that in mind, it pays to look at the minimum and maximum amounts the game wants to try and charge you since that gives a good idea of their intended range of interaction with your wallet, and how far a given amount of paid microtransactions will take you. Because, remember, such games are built around the idea of NEVER giving you enough. They ALWAYS want you to be in a state of wanting a little more and being tempted to dish over some more cash for it.
In Pokemon Sleep's case? The minimum buy-in for "Diamonds" - their premium microtransaction currency - is 60 Diamonds for $1.19. Their maximum? 7000 Diamonds for $97.99. So what this says outright is that the game is designed in such a way that it expects 7000 Diamonds to NOT BE ENOUGH to maintain a player's best experience. Because, again, such games will NEVER give you a value sufficient enough to deter the need for further purchases. This is a game that wants players to spend $100 multiple times over throughout the lifespan of their interest in the game. Will the majority of players do this? No. There's absolutely going to be a number of whales who will, especially among influencers and content creators on social media who make their own career off these sort of things. But what Pokemon Sleep is relying on is that there will be a far greater abundance of players who think "Oh, it's just a dollar..." or 'Oh, this item is going away... it's not even $5, so why not?" on a very regular basis.
And I haven't even touched on the overt security/privacy issues and the personal info scraping the app has potential for as well. So, yeah, I'm just going to go ahead and sleep on Pokemon Sleep.
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Godfall Terminal Access Approved- Data: Thronebreakers
System access permitted. Research Data On phenomenon "Godfall" now accessible. Secondary information Request, central data upon "Thronebreakers."- H.A.E. Employee Detected, Hello, Bastian.
Please note that the following research content is highly classified and contains the following sensitive topics: Captivity, general assholery relating to using others for personal gain?
THRONEBREAKERS || CREW CONSTRUCTS
"Who is predicting these events? // What do the crews look like?"
Those who chase Godfalls are referred to as "Thronebreakers" though this term applies to both those who casually pursue the collapses for their own personal gain, and those who seek to destroy the greater spirits (Hereforth referred to as 'The Host') That seem to garner more zealous loyalty than those who make up more common Godfalls. While loosely organized, crews of Thronebreakers typically consist of a handful of main roles, filled by at least 2 dragons apiece.
Breakers are the primary muscle of a hunting crew, assigned to attacking both the collapsing God and rival crew members they are often large, brutish, and skilled in close combat. These dragons tend to use heavily modified weapons equip with magical siphons to drain magic in a more passive manner as they deal damage to one another and the entity the crews are pursuing.
Needlers are thus the more refined, directly focused crew members who are present completely for harvesting from the entity. The middle-weight fighters using smaller, more maneuverable weapons to collect flesh, scales, bones, blood, and raw magic as they chase behind entities, they are often seen climbing across the massive bodies of the spirits and are defended by Breakers with their lives.
The Torchbearers are relegated to pathing, and tend to be of a handful of very specific breeds carrying the blessing of the Windsinger and the Flamecaller, with bodies that contain great peals of unquenchable, magical flame or lingering traces of wind, some crews have expanded to the use of those who bear a similar blessing from the Stormcatcher in the absence of access to the other two. These portions of crews thus tend to favor banescales and aberrations, for their aerial maneuverability and tendency to display such genetic predispositions. Their function is singular, to carve a pathway of magic that corrals the falling God toward an opportune resting place for their crews to prey upon.
Witnesses are the final piece of a Thronebreaking crew, and their purpose seems entirely to be attuned to one of The Host- therefore capable of detecting where a member of this strange collective might spill back into reality. Some are zealots- followers of the Host themselves, some are Beholders, dragons driven mad by their contact with these higher-tier dead, and others are born with a more prevalent sensitivity to the build of latent magic in the air. It is a crew's Witness that determines where a Godfall might occur, and where there is one thronebreaking crew, there are hundreds to follow. Given their rarity, however, Enterprising God-Hunters in previous falls put together a collective of loyalists to The Host, referred to as The Council of Fifteen. Little more than Prisoners to the crew that gathered them, The Council are used to detect and signal with more accuracy than a lone Witness where a Godfall is going to occur- and this information can be bought in shadowy corners of Sornieth for crews without Witnesses of their own.
THRONEBREAKERS || INTER-CREW POLITICS
"Are the crews working together? // How many crews attend? // How far do they know in advance? // What is the Opening Ritual?"
No matter their similarities in makeup, Thronebreaking crews are not working together for anything other than a shared final goal. Even those operating under the banner of the same crew are often seen attacking and fighting amongst themselves once the fall begins, so crews in opposition are fighting not only the entity itself, but all members of the other crews in tandem. A falling "God" is dying, and despite their impressive size and overwhelming magical power, these dragons are actively walking to their death sites- the greatest danger posed during a Godfall is other thronebreaker crews, not the entity itself. Finding a strenuous allyship in the midst of a godfall is not something that has gone unreported, but it is rare, and high-value entities, like those who were formerly recognized as members of The Host inspire far more bloodthirsty behavior as each crew jockeys for control over the bulk of what the godfall provides.
While in the early days of the phenomenon those who chased Godfalls were rather small in number, the proliferation of raw magic as a market- and the fact that there are very few ways to harvest it that are humane outside of hunting these grand, decaying entities- has led to the modern godfall location attracting easily 200+ dragons at a time. This has the notable drawback of displacing clans that already live in the locale, though some in more high-traffic locales have adapted to these events, using Godfalls as an opportunity to sell wares, buy collected magic and materials in the aftermath, and build stronger relationships with the nomadic Thronebreaker crews, should they have need of sellswords in the future.
Crews lucky enough to have a Witness among their ranks are often capable of determining the territory a Godfall might occur weeks in advance, though more precise determination is reserved for when the Witness arrives in the area, requiring the ability to detect the high-volume of magic thinning the barriers between Sornieth and the so-called Gaplands where these spirits reside. Those most capable of precognition relating to these events are Beholders, those who were present at the first, non-Godfall appearance of an entity in Sornieth- often subsently broken mentally by what they witnessed.
Those with no hints, precognitions, or essential information purchased secondhand from those who know what you need to know, however, are not completely out of luck, at least, not until the Opening Ritual. A more recent addition to the process- at least in an official capacity, the Opening Ritual is used largely as an attempt to more correctly determine what might be coming through the portal in the sky. Relying on the Council of the Fifteen, these dragons- reduced to little more than priests of the Host- perform a ritual upon which they relinquish all the magic they contain completely- This high volume of magic operates in two capacities- encouraging the portal to activate, and weakening the council member most directly related to the appearing entity- offering essential hints to those chasing the collapse about what they might be going after. In the event of the fall of a Host Entity, the member of the Council dedicated to them will die outright- though it is unclear as to why this phenomenon occurs.
#flight rising#fr#flight rising lore#And this is broken into 2 because I'll be elaborating further on things about the Gods/The places they fall/their remains on another post#bc the split worked out really well.#as always replies/rb/comments welcome#god this got long I'm afraid of the next one too lmao#If you read all this shit you're a fucking trooper.
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Spoilers for Murder Drones Ep 8.
What ride! I loved it. ^^
Although, there is this particular line from J that had been stuck in my mind since I watched the episode.
"You know there's no escape, even in death!"
Outstanding delivery aside (seriously, the VA killed it), The line itself (even on a surface level) shows how trapped these drones are, but I'd like to delve deeper here. There is something about it that makes the gears in my head turns and I want to drop the product here.
Here we go.
To start, I'd like to say that, of course, J would know that more than anyone. She died so many times during the show. There is even a J death count in the credit scene. If someone would feel like it's impossible to leave, it would be J because her experience showed her that something as final as death could not break the Solver's hold. (Following this line of thoughts can give us a wealth of information about J and her character! But that's for later)
Now, thinking about it, there are more than one way for the Solver to nullify (heh) death, and I think that makes it even more terrifying and, well, absolute. More so than death. It's not one blockage. There are layers.
For one, we know how difficult it is to kill a Solver afflicted drone. They regenerate so much, so quickly. Even when you take out a crucial part (like the head) or a good chunk of them, they'll come back. And when you do manage to damage them enough to the point that they can't just self-repair, if their core is intact you'll get the 'autorun Solver failsafe' where they'll mutate and turn into eldritch abomination that collect matter until it can repair the host back into the original stat, effectively bring them back to life (and we don't even know the level of awareness the host have during the matter collection process).
Second, even if there is no eldritch phase, they'll still live as a core (like Nori!), a body is not needed.
And if the core is destroyed? Not enough. Because there are backups. J's core was destroyed at the second episode, and oh look! she's back, and seemingly with her memories (on some level) intact from her previous run.
But there is more! Now, this part is mostly speculation and theories, so take it with a grain of salt. But there is a point, after Uzi ate the Solver core where the screen had red in it, and, some says, Doll's name flashed there. Now, I don't think Cyn kept a back up of Doll, and her core was eaten. So what does that mean? I think that could mean that any drone connected to the solver (or maybe eaten by it) would be saved in it's... data base? (not sure what to call it). So even if there is no core, no back up, a drone might not cease to exist and 'die' if it was connected to the solver, even passively. They could forever exist within the Solver itself, which mean that the only way to truly die is to erase the Solver and everything within it completely. which I'm not even sure is possible, considering it's nature of being a 'code mutation' with the possibility of popping up again (although, maybe the end of one strain of Solver could 'free' those within this strain. Or we could have a case of Halo's Flood where even when gone, the new one will carry what the old has, which is honestly horrifying and depressing).
And the patch won't safe you because it keep the primary host out, but not the Solver (and honestly, even if it blocks the Solver itself, I don't think a patch would be effective for long, I think it could pull a flu and mutate to bypass it).
All in all, the Solver is living up to it's name and is being one of my favorite cosmic/existential horrors, not just bending the laws of physics but life itself. A background hopelessness that become more and more prominent once you think about it.
Sorry if that was a mess. Like I said, I just wanted to word vomit my thoughts. XD
#Murder drones#absolute solver#MD#Analysis#Serial designation J#SDJ#Cyn#Oh the things I can do with this massive wiggling room MD left for us at the end#😈#Solver is one of those things that the more you think about the more terrifying it gets#This might be just a recap of how no one can truly die with it around#Kido thoughts#my thoughts
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If you still hold any notion that Google Chrome’s “Incognito mode” is a good way to protect your privacy online, now’s a good time to stop.
Google has agreed to delete “billions of data records” the company collected while users browsed the web using Incognito mode, according to documents filed in federal court in San Francisco on Monday. The agreement, part of a settlement in a class action lawsuit filed in 2020, caps off years of disclosures about Google’s practices that shed light on how much data the tech giant siphons from its users—even when they’re in private-browsing mode.
Under the terms of the settlement, Google must further update the Incognito mode “splash page” that appears anytime you open an Incognito mode Chrome window after previously updating it in January. The Incognito splash page will explicitly state that Google collects data from third-party websites “regardless of which browsing or browser mode you use,” and stipulate that “third-party sites and apps that integrate our services may still share information with Google,” among other changes. Details about Google’s private-browsing data collection must also appear in the company’s privacy policy.
Additionally, some of the data that Google previously collected on Incognito users will be deleted. This includes “private-browsing data” that is “older than nine months” from the date that Google signed the term sheet of the settlement last December, as well as private-browsing data collected throughout December 2023. Certain documents in the case referring to Google's data collection methods remain sealed, however, making it difficult to assess how thorough the deletion process will be.
Google spokesperson Jose Castaneda says in a statement that the company “is happy to delete old technical data that was never associated with an individual and was never used for any form of personalization.” Castaneda also noted that the company will now pay “zero” dollars as part of the settlement after earlier facing a $5 billion penalty.
Other steps Google must take will include continuing to “block third-party cookies within Incognito mode for five years,” partially redacting IP addresses to prevent re-identification of anonymized user data, and removing certain header information that can currently be used to identify users with Incognito mode active.
The data-deletion portion of the settlement agreement follows preemptive changes to Google’s Incognito mode data collection and the ways it describes what Incognito mode does. For nearly four years, Google has been phasing out third-party cookies, which the company says it plans to completely block by the end of 2024. Google also updated Chrome’s Incognito mode “splash page” in January with weaker language to signify that using Incognito is not “private,” but merely “more private” than not using it.
The settlement's relief is strictly “injunctive,” meaning its central purpose is to put an end to Google activities that the plaintiffs claim are unlawful. The settlement does not rule out any future claims—The Wall Street Journal reports that the plaintiffs’ attorneys had filed at least 50 such lawsuits in California on Monday—though the plaintiffs note that monetary relief in privacy cases is far more difficult to obtain. The important thing, the plaintiffs’ lawyers argue, is effecting changes at Google now that will provide the greatest, immediate benefit to the largest number of users.
Critics of Incognito, a staple of the Chrome browser since 2008, say that, at best, the protections it offers fall flat in the face of the sophisticated commercial surveillance bearing down on most users today; at worst, they say, the feature fills people with a false sense of security, helping companies like Google passively monitor millions of users who've been duped into thinking they're browsing alone.
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I think I've FINALLY got it.
I figured out a some-what definitive, sure-fire way to tell if someone is more of a Crowley, or more of an Aziraphale. Better than any B*zzf**d quiz could hope. (Especially for the girlies like me who are a heavily intertwined combo of both.)
So, after watching many reaction videos to the end of S2 E6 (don't judge me, we all cope in our own ways), I've determined that it all comes down one thing. That is, how you react to Crowley saying, "Right... And you told him just where he could stick it then?" etc. Basically, the initial moment of his rejection of Aziraphale.
Reactions I've seen to the scene had a fair number of confused faces at Crowley's response to Aziraphale's offer. Lots of furrowed brows and head tilts. If that was you, congrats! you're an Aziraphale!
"But wait!" you say. "I was just caught up in the moment. The possibility of it... For God's sake! The romance!!!" Umm.. yeah. Exactly.
Now if you, like me, reacted to Aziraphale's offer before Crowley even said anything. Well, I'm sure you already know where this is going. Said reactions include, but are not limited to, eye-rolling, face palming, repeatedly saying the word "no," and/ or yelling "Really?!" at your screen. If this was you... Congrats! You're a Crowley!
"That makes sense, though..." you say. "Why would anyone want to go back to somewhere with people that shunned them?" Too right you are!
Bonus points if you saw people being confused at how Crowley responded, and were then yourself, confused as to how they could be. That's what happened to me, and well, here we are!
If you're still not convinced - Crowley's and Aziraphale's - then think on this: How did you react to Crowley, yet again, pleading for Aziraphale to run away with him?
If you thought it was romantic and "Oh my god, why can't someone ask me that?!" You're Crowley baby!
If you thought it was insane and "Everything they love is here! They can't leave and give up on it!" You're Aziraphale my love.
The crux of the Ineffable Divorce - as said by many - is that these two don't know what the other truly wants. Almost more importantly, though, is that Aziraphale doesn't consider what Crowley would never want. Going back to heaven would be number one on that list. Under no circumstances would that be a thing Crowley would want. Even if it meant having a blessed existence with Aziraphale.
On the other hand, Crowley knowing that Aziraphale would never want to go to hell is supposed to be a give-in. Just as Crowley himself not wanting to go back is a give-in to Aziraphale ("Of course...you're the bad guys"). Crowley doesn't realize that maybe his go-to quick-fix of running away together, though romantic, doesn't actually fix anything for Aziraphale.
No matter what, these characters are (canonically) two halves of a whole. Even as their separate halves they are incredibly complex, and therefore, hard to emotionally pin down without contradiction. Beautifully, much like real people.
Last, but not least, if you don't feel represented in your reaction to Crowley's rejection, I hate to break it to you, but you're Muriel.
You're the passive watcher outside the window, collecting data like a nature documentarian/ officer constable concerned with matters of the heart. And we love you for it!
#good omens#aziraphale#crowley#muriel#good omens 2#ineffable husbands#ineffible divorce#good omens meta#gomens#I over identify with Crowley and it makes sense#more where this came from#I would die for Muriel#Muriel and crowley besties in season 3
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(...) proponents of the Man the Hunter theory assumed evolution was acting primarily on men, and women were merely passive beneficiaries of both the meat supply and evolutionary progress.
(...) The modern physiological evidence, along with historical examples, exposes deep flaws in the idea that physical inferiority prevented females from partaking in hunting during our evolutionary past. The evidence from prehistory further undermines this notion.
(...) For those practicing a foraging subsistence strategy in small family groups, flexibility and adaptability are much more important than rigid roles, gendered or otherwise. Individuals get injured or die, and the availability of animal and plant foods changes with the seasons. All group members need to be able to step into any role depending on the situation, whether that role is hunter or breeding partner.
more discussion of the specific evidence in the article -- please give it a read! full text under readmore if you cant get the link to work
The Theory That Men Evolved to Hunt and Women Evolved to Gather Is Wrong
Cara Ocobock, Sarah Lacy
18 - 23 minutes
Even if you're not an anthropologist, you've probably encountered one of this field's most influential notions, known as Man the Hunter. The theory proposes that hunting was a major driver of human evolution and that men carried this activity out to the exclusion of women. It holds that human ancestors had a division of labor, rooted in biological differences between males and females, in which males evolved to hunt and provide and females tended to children and domestic duties. It assumes that males are physically superior to females and that pregnancy and child-rearing reduce or eliminate a female's ability to hunt.
Man the Hunter has dominated the study of human evolution for nearly half a century and pervaded popular culture. It is represented in museum dioramas and textbook figures, Saturday morning cartoons and feature films. The thing is, it's wrong.
Mounting evidence from exercise science indicates that women are physiologically better suited than men to endurance efforts such as running marathons. This advantage bears on questions about hunting because a prominent hypothesis contends that early humans are thought to have pursued prey on foot over long distances until the animals were exhausted. Furthermore, the fossil and archaeological records, as well as ethnographic studies of modern-day hunter-gatherers, indicate that women have a long history of hunting game. We still have much to learn about female athletic performance and the lives of prehistoric women. Nevertheless, the data we do have signal that it is time to bury Man the Hunter for good.
youtube
The theory rose to prominence in 1968, when anthropologists Richard B. Lee and Irven DeVore published Man the Hunter, an edited collection of scholarly papers presented at a 1966 symposium on contemporary hunter-gatherer societies. The volume drew on ethnographic, archaeological and paleoanthropological evidence to argue that hunting is what drove human evolution and resulted in our suite of unique features. "Man's life as a hunter supplied all the other ingredients for achieving civilization: the genetic variability, the inventiveness, the systems of vocal communication, the coordination of social life," anthropologist William S. Laughlin writes in chapter 33 of the book. Because men were supposedly the ones hunting, proponents of the Man the Hunter theory assumed evolution was acting primarily on men, and women were merely passive beneficiaries of both the meat supply and evolutionary progress.
But Man the Hunter's contributors often ignored evidence, sometimes in their own data, that countered their suppositions. For example, Hitoshi Watanabe focused on ethnographic data about the Ainu, an Indigenous population in northern Japan and its surrounding areas. Although Watanabe documented Ainu women hunting, often with the aid of dogs, he dismissed this finding in his interpretations and placed the focus squarely on men as the primary meat winners. He was superimposing the idea of male superiority through hunting onto the Ainu and into the past.
This fixation on male superiority was a sign of the times not just in academia but in society at large. In 1967, the year between the Man the Hunter conference and the publication of the edited volume, 20-year-old Kathrine Switzer entered the Boston Marathon under the name "K. V. Switzer," which obscured her gender. There were no official rules against women entering the race; it just was not done. When officials discovered that Switzer was a woman, race manager Jock Semple attempted to push her physically off the course.
At that time, the conventional wisdom was that women were incapable of completing such a physically demanding task and that attempting to do so could harm their precious reproductive capacities. Scholars following Man the Hunter dogma relied on this belief in women's limited physical capacities and the assumed burden of pregnancy and lactation to argue that only men hunted. Women had children to rear instead.
Today these biased assumptions persist in both the scientific literature and the public consciousness. Granted, women have recently been shown hunting in movies such as Prey, the newest installment of the popular Predator franchise, and on cable programs such as Naked and Afraid and Women Who Hunt. But social media trolls have viciously critiqued and labeled these depictions as part of a politically correct feminist agenda. They insist the creators of such works are trying to rewrite gender roles and evolutionary history in an attempt to co-opt "traditionally masculine" social spheres. Bystanders might be left wondering whether portrayals of women hunters are trying to make the past more inclusive than it really was—or whether Man the Hunter-style assumptions about the past are attempts to project sexism backward in time. Our recent surveys of the physiological and archaeological evidence for hunting capability and sexual division of labor in human evolution answer this question.
Credit: Violet Isabelle Frances for Bryan Christie Design
Before getting into the evidence, we need to first talk about sex and gender. "Sex" typically refers to biological sex, which can be defined by myriad characteristics such as chromosomes, hormone levels, gonads, external genitalia and secondary sex characteristics. The terms "female" and "male" are often used in relation to biological sex. "Gender" refers to how an individual identifies—woman, man, nonbinary, and so forth. Much of the scientific literature confuses and conflates female/male and woman/man terminology without providing definitions to clarify what it is referring to and why those terms were chosen. For the purpose of describing anatomical and physiological evidence, most of the literature uses "female" and "male," so we use those words here when discussing the results of such studies. For ethnographic and archaeological evidence, we are attempting to reconstruct social roles, for which the terms "woman" and "man" are usually used. Unfortunately, both these word sets assume a binary, which does not exist biologically, psychologically or socially. Sex and gender both exist as a spectrum, but it is difficult to add that nuance when citing the work of others.
It also bears mentioning that much of the research into exercise physiology, paleoanthropology, archaeology and ethnography has historically been conducted by men and focused on males. For example, Ella Smith of the Australian Catholic University and her colleagues found that in studies of nutrition and supplements, only 23 percent of participants were female. Emma Cowley, then at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and her colleagues found that among published studies focusing on athletic performance, only 6 percent had female-only participants; 31 percent looked exclusively at males. This massive disparity means we still know very little about female athletic performance, training and nutrition, leaving athletic trainers and coaches to treat females mostly as small males. It also means that much of the work we have to rely on to make our physiological arguments about female hunters in prehistory is based on research with small human sample sizes or rodent studies. We hope this state of affairs will inspire the next generation of scientists to ensure that females are represented in such studies. But even with the limited data available to us, we can show that Man the Hunter is a flawed theory and make the case that females in early human communities hunted, too.
From a biological standpoint, there are undeniable differences between females and males. When we discuss these differences, we are typically referring to means, averages of one group compared with another. Means obscure the vast range of variation in humans. For instance, although males tend to be larger and to have bigger hearts and lungs and more muscle mass, there are plenty of females who fall within the typical male range; the inverse is also true.
Overall, females are metabolically better suited for endurance activities, whereas males excel at short, powerful burst-type activities. You can think of it as marathoners (females) versus powerlifters (males). Much of this difference seems to be driven by the powers of the hormone estrogen.
Credit: Violet Isabelle Frances for Bryan Christie Design
Given the fitness world's persistent touting of the hormone testosterone for athletic success, you'd be forgiven for not knowing that estrogen, which females typically produce more of than males, plays an incredibly important role in athletic performance. It makes sense from an evolutionary standpoint, however. The estrogen receptor—the protein that estrogen binds to in order to do its work—is deeply ancient. Joseph Thornton of the University of Chicago and his colleagues have estimated that it is around 1.2 billion to 600 million years old—roughly twice as old as the testosterone receptor. In addition to helping regulate the reproductive system, estrogen influences fine-motor control and memory, enhances the growth and development of neurons, and helps to prevent hardening of the arteries.
Important for the purposes of this discussion, estrogen also improves fat metabolism. During exercise, estrogen seems to encourage the body to use stored fat for energy before stored carbohydrates. Fat contains more calories per gram than carbohydrates do, so it burns more slowly, which can delay fatigue during endurance activity. Not only does estrogen encourage fat burning, but it also promotes greater fat storage within muscles—marbling if you will—which makes that fat's energy more readily available. Adiponectin, another hormone that is typically present in higher amounts in females than in males, further enhances fat metabolism while sparing carbohydrates for future use, and it protects muscle from breakdown. Anne Friedlander of Stanford University and her colleagues found that females use as much as 70 percent more fat for energy during exercise than males.
Correspondingly, the muscle fibers of females differ from those of males. Females have more type I, or "slow-twitch," muscle fibers than males do. These fibers generate energy slowly by using fat. They are not all that powerful, but they take a long time to become fatigued. They are the endurance muscle fibers. Males, in contrast, typically have more type II ("fast-twitch") fibers, which use carbohydrates to provide quick energy and a great deal of power but tire rapidly.
Females also tend to have a greater number of estrogen receptors on their skeletal muscles compared with males. This arrangement makes these muscles more sensitive to estrogen, including to its protective effect after physical activity. Estrogen's ability to increase fat metabolism and regulate the body's response to the hormone insulin can help prevent muscle breakdown during intense exercise. Furthermore, estrogen appears to have a stabilizing effect on cell membranes that might otherwise rupture from acute stress brought on by heat and exercise. Ruptured cells release enzymes called creatine kinases, which can damage tissues.
Studies of females and males during and after exercise bolster these claims. Linda Lamont of the University of Rhode Island and her colleagues, as well as Michael Riddell of York University in Canada and his colleagues, found that females experienced less muscle breakdown than males after the same bouts of exercise. Tellingly, in a separate study, Mazen J. Hamadeh of York University and his colleagues found that males supplemented with estrogen suffered less muscle breakdown during cycling than those who didn't receive estrogen supplements. In a similar vein, research led by Ron Maughan of the University of St. Andrews in Scotland found that females were able to perform significantly more weight-lifting repetitions than males at the same percentages of their maximal strength.
If females are better able to use fat for sustained energy and keep their muscles in better condition during exercise, then they should be able to run greater distances with less fatigue relative to males. In fact, an analysis of marathons carried out by Robert Deaner of Grand Valley State University demonstrated that females tend to slow down less as a race progresses compared with males.
If you follow long-distance races, you might be thinking, wait—males are outperforming females in endurance events! But this is only sometimes the case. Females are more regularly dominating ultraendurance events such as the more than 260-mile Montane Spine foot race through England and Scotland, the 21-mile swim across the English Channel and the 4,300-mile Trans Am cycling race across the U.S. Sometimes female athletes compete in these races while attending to the needs of their children. In 2018 English runner Sophie Power ran the 105-mile Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc race in the Alps while still breastfeeding her three-month-old at rest stations.
Inequity between male and female athletes is a result not of inherent biological differences between the sexes but of biases in how they are treated in sports. As an example, some endurance-running events allow the use of professional runners called pacesetters to help competitors perform their best. Men are not permitted to act as pacesetters in many women's events because of the belief that they will make the women "artificially faster," as though women were not actually doing the running themselves.
The modern physiological evidence, along with historical examples, exposes deep flaws in the idea that physical inferiority prevented females from partaking in hunting during our evolutionary past. The evidence from prehistory further undermines this notion.
Consider the skeletal remains of ancient people. Differences in body size between females and males of a species, a phenomenon called sexual size dimorphism, correlate with social structure. In species with pronounced size dimorphism, larger males compete with one another for access to females, and among the great apes larger males socially dominate females. Low sexual size dimorphism is characteristic of egalitarian and monogamous species. Modern humans have low sexual size dimorphism compared with the other great apes. The same goes for human ancestors spanning the past two million years, suggesting that the social structure of humans changed from that of our chimpanzeelike ancestors.
Sophie Power ran the 105-mile Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc race in the Alps while breastfeeding her child at rest stations. Credit: Alexis Berg
Anthropologists also look at damage on our ancestors' skeletons for clues to their behavior. Neandertals are the best-studied extinct members of the human family because we have a rich fossil record of their remains. Neandertal females and males do not differ in their trauma patterns, nor do they exhibit sex differences in pathology from repetitive actions. Their skeletons show the same patterns of wear and tear. This finding suggests that they were doing the same things, from ambush-hunting large game animals to processing hides for leather. Yes, Neandertal women were spearing woolly rhinoceroses, and Neandertal men were making clothing.
Males living in the Upper Paleolithic—the cultural period between roughly 45,000 and 10,000 years ago, when early modern humans entered Europe—do show higher rates of a set of injuries to the right elbow region known as thrower's elbow, which could mean they were more likely than females to throw spears. But it does not mean women were not hunting, because this period is also when people invented the bow and arrow, hunting nets and fishing hooks. These more sophisticated tools enabled humans to catch a wider variety of animals; they were also easier on hunters' bodies. Women may have favored hunting tactics that took advantage of these new technologies.
What is more, females and males were buried in the same way in the Upper Paleolithic. Their bodies were interred with the same kinds of artifacts, or grave goods, suggesting that the groups they lived in did not have social hierarchies based on sex.
Ancient DNA provides additional clues about social structure and potential gender roles in ancestral human communities. Patterns of variation in the Y chromosome, which is paternally inherited, and in mitochondrial DNA, which is maternally inherited, can reveal differences in how males and females dispersed after reaching maturity. Thanks to analyses of DNA extracted from fossils, we now know of three Neandertal groups that engaged in patrilocality—wherein males were more likely to stay in the group they were born into and females moved to other groups—although we do not know how widespread this practice was.
Patrilocality is believed to have been an attempt to avoid incest by trading potential mates with other groups. Nevertheless, many Neandertals show both genetic and anatomical evidence of repeated inbreeding in their ancestry. They lived in small, nomadic groups with low population densities and endured frequent local extinctions, which produced much lower levels of genetic diversity than we see in living humans. This is probably why we don't see any evidence in their skeletons of sex-based differences in behavior.
For those practicing a foraging subsistence strategy in small family groups, flexibility and adaptability are much more important than rigid roles, gendered or otherwise. Individuals get injured or die, and the availability of animal and plant foods changes with the seasons. All group members need to be able to step into any role depending on the situation, whether that role is hunter or breeding partner.
Observations of recent and contemporary foraging societies provide direct evidence of women participating in hunting. The most cited examples come from the Agta people of the Philippines. Agta women hunt while menstruating, pregnant and breastfeeding, and they have the same hunting success as Agta men.
They are hardly alone. A recent study of ethnographic data spanning the past 100 years—much of which was ignored by Man the Hunter contributors—found that women from a wide range of cultures hunt animals for food. Abigail Anderson and Cara Wall-Scheffler, both then at Seattle Pacific University, and their colleagues reported that 79 percent of the 63 foraging societies with clear descriptions of their hunting strategies feature women hunters. The women participate in hunting regardless of their childbearing status. These findings directly challenge the Man the Hunter assumption that women's bodies and childcare responsibilities limit their efforts to gathering foods that cannot run away.
So much about female exercise physiology and the lives of prehistoric women remains to be discovered. But the idea that in the past men were hunters and women were not is absolutely unsupported by the limited evidence we have. Female physiology is optimized for exactly the kinds of endurance activities involved in procuring game animals for food. And ancient women and men appear to have engaged in the same foraging activities rather than upholding a sex-based division of labor. It was the arrival some 10,000 years ago of agriculture, with its intensive investment in land, population growth and resultant clumped resources, that led to rigid gendered roles and economic inequality.
Now when you think of "cave people," we hope, you will imagine a mixed-sex group of hunters encircling an errant reindeer or knapping stone tools together rather than a heavy-browed man with a club over one shoulder and a trailing bride. Hunting may have been remade as a masculine activity in recent times, but for most of human history, it belonged to everyone.
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So. What if Jaime had chemoreceptors on spots his armor? I have four potential explanations/reasons.
One: the less creepy version: certain types of bugs taste with their feet, etc. Not beetles, but they do. They can land on things and identify whether or not they’re food that way. So, fingertips and or balls of his feet have the ability to taste.
Two: the raptorial version. The forearm blades/upper forelegs are raptorial. If he’s fighting/hunting, he might wanna be able to sense if this is food or not, once he sticks his blades in. So taste receptors on the blades. Possibly little pores like ampullae of lorenzini (detects electrical impulses, so might help with finding muscles to cut to incapacitate prey), or thermal pits like vipers (to help locate large veins to slice.)
Three: antenna version.
The upper forelimbs kinda look like antenna, could give them sensory function (in suit). Maybe sensitive to pressure on the tips, with chemoreceptors clustered on the tip (active investigation, like he’s poking at a thing) and trailing in a rough line down the limb towards his main body (passive investigation, like the wind blows a smell to him)
Four: scout version. The scarab is an infiltrator, part of infiltrating is collecting data, so the armor must have a whole fuck-ton of sensors on it, so the scarab can get lots of data to send to Reach. Khaj isn’t interested in the reach, but that doesn’t change what it was designed for. So lots of sensors everywhere, with taste/smell receptors clustered on the ends of limbs (feet, hands, blades)
Thank you, have a nice day!
Hey. Hi. Not to be dramatic but I’m going to marry you now. This is not a request. Put the ring on
Hoooooooooly fuck I love the Ampullae of Lorenzini idea so much. I know there aren’t really insects that have them (as far as I know) but I don’t fucking care they’re SO COOL. The gel inside ampullengang might need to change because it’s meant to detect electromagnetic fields underwater but that’s like. The only real issue here.
Fuckkkk you could have so much fun with behavioral shit too. Movement might cause his mantis blades to try and lash out to attack whatever’s triggering them. In battle this could help with quick instinctive attacks that might not be possible if he was doing it consciously. BAD news is that means he has to get a grip on them real fucking quick so he doesent hurt anyone on accident. OHHHH MY GOD WHICH WOULD MAKE DUCK-TAPING THEM DOWN IN MY LAST LIL AU BLURB EVEN MORE FUN LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO.
Oh god accidentally hurting a family member. His worst fucking nightmare. Delicious. I am drinking that shit like lemonade.
Yes I added his little clawsies in the diagram you can fit SO many knives on this boy.
THERMAL!! PITS!! Holy fuck I did not know there were beetles that have these but there ARE. They’re called fire chaser beetles and they can sense fires from MILES away and holy fuck I love them. Their sensilla (sorry for spelling it wrong in the drawing lmao) are stored in the thorax and are infrared receptors. These contain liquid which expand in response to the infrared radiation, and touch a nerve, which tells the beetle where heat is coming from.
For Jaime this would be weird as FUCK. It’s more just a sense of 'HEAT WHEREMST’ than infrared vision. It is nice for telling his mom when she forgot to turn off the oven though.
#god bless this slow day at work. if I had to wait any longer to draw these I was going to implode#also I love that bottom right Jaime. he looks so bug. I’m so proud#jaime reyes#khaji da#blue beetle#my art#mantis blades au#blue beetle 2023#this ask had me in a mental frenzy for like. 5 hours. it was great#sketch#blue beetle bio diagrams#blue beetle headcannons
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The Natural History Museum in London has announced a major programme of transformation it says will mark “a step-change from being a catalogue of natural history to a catalyst for change” in response to the climate emergency.
The scheme to renovate the museum’s celebrated Victorian building and develop a new research and storage facility will build on its aim to turn visitors into “advocates for the planet"
Four existing galleries will be overhauled, including its enormously popular dinosaur gallery, while the museum plans to reopen two long-closed exhibition spaces, one of which, the Old General Herbarium, has not been accessible to the public since 1948.
One of them will house a new permanent exhibition that the museum’s director, Doug Gurr, said would include the most explicit climate messaging it had ever offered. The exhibition, Fixing Our Broken Planet, will have the express aim of “nudging” visitors to change their behaviour, he said.
The new exhibition spaces will be freed up by the creation of a purpose-built storage, research and digitisation centre at Thames Valley Science Park near Reading, to which more than a third of the museum’s enormous natural history collection will be moved from its “unsuitable, unsustainable” current home.
The museum said this was “so we can take better care of it and more easily share its data with scientists all over the world who are finding solutions to problems like climate change, biodiversity loss and food security.”
Until recently, Gurr told the Guardian, the museum had seen itself as a “passive observer … our job was to collect, to conserve, to research, to display”.
“[Then] we stepped back a bit and said: ‘Well, hang on, if your subject matter is planet Earth and it’s under that much threat, you’ve got to do something about it. If you want the sporting analogy: how do you get off the sidelines and get on the pitch?”
In 2020 the museum declared a planetary emergency, and Gurr said the redevelopment was part of its continuing response. “The best contribution we can make is to create what we call ‘advocates for the planet’. And what that really means is: how do you inspire people at scale to care about nature and to care enough to want to do something about it?
“Of course, we still want people to have a brilliant, fun family day out. But if you can come out of that being a little bit more interested in nature and a little bit more aware of some of the challenges, you’re a bit more likely to want to do something about it.”
The overhaul of the South Kensington site is due to be completed in time for the museum’s 150th anniversary in 2031. The bulk of the funding will come from the government, which has already committed more than £200m to the new collections and research centre, while a further £155m will fund a museum-led programme to digitise natural science collections in the UK. In addition, the museum announced plans to raise £150m from philanthropic and commercial sponsors.
Gurr said the museum was happy to “talk to everybody” about potential sources of sponsorship but would not accept donations from firms it saw as unacceptable partners based on their climate record. “We are very, very clear that when we talk to [a potential sponsor], we’re going to look at the actual behaviour versus the statements,” he said.
Gurr said the museum had turned down “significant” sums in the past “where we just felt it wouldn’t be appropriate to accept at this point, because we’re acutely aware that you can’t go around asking people to change behaviour and save the planet if you’re then hypocritical in some of the gifts you accept”.
He would not be drawn on the position taken by other institutions such as the Science Museum and the British Museum, both of which have highly controversial funding relationships with energy firms, but he said: “It is factual that we have not accepted any funding from fossil fuel companies.”
The museum recently redeveloped its outdoor space into two new gardens focusing on evolution and biodiversity, and Gurr said it hoped to expand its education programme, encouraging schools to exploit their own outdoor space and enhance their climate and nature teaching.
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Soft Spot - Chapter 4
RotTMNT Donatello x Reader
Donnie's always working on something like in this week’s chapter art by @garbagemilkshake
Rated: Explicit
Warnings/Tags: Romance, Established Relationship, Married Couple, Married Life, Aged-Up Mutant Ninja Turtles, Villain Donatello (TMNT), Love, POV Second Person, Babies, Pregnancy, AFAB reader, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fertility Issues, Pregnant Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Reader-Insert, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Cum Eating, Turtle Noises (TMNT), I have a Biology Degree and I’m Using it
Synopsis: First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then comes the next step about as smooth as the others arrived. The baby-oriented sequel to Weak Spot.
Also available on Ao3
First 💜 Previous
LAST WARNING FOR THE 🍋 UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DNI!
“Okay.”
You looked over from where you were adjusting the collar of your shirt.
“Technically your cycle started six days ago, but marking today as the first cleared from your period.” Donnie spoke with a litany of screens about him.
“It was a long one…” You ruminated. “I hate when it’s just bloody discharge those last few days, like just empty out already.”
Donnie nodded and paced with his circle of screens moving fluidly along.
You noticed a few purple Tetris blocks mixed in amongst the technology and walked closer to get a look at them.
“With your permission I’ve taken an average of your cycles to work off of.” Donnie paced away from you without noticing.
You gave chase.
“As you have cleared, I’ve been examining you daily through the entirety of approximately your last three cycles. That paired with menstrual data that was passively collected, I can accurately map out our schedule.”
You got close to one floating purple block, but Donnie neared a wall and, like a Roomba, rotated away to go in another direction.
“We then take into account your clinical OBGYN visits. Your gametes are considered in a good health range. Mine are in a similar state per my personal evaluation. It is only combining our genetics that interferes now. Consider we are tethered to probability, following your ovulation gives us the best chances of conceiving.”
You watched his path and waited for what direction he would bounce towards next so you could intercept.
“My sperm appears to have a similar lifespan to that of a humans’. That’s a three to five day window in which they can survive in your reproductive system. To best maximize our chances, we should keep you filled just prior to and during your ovulation. Hence the necessity of your menstrual schedule.”
He trended towards the bed and you frowned because that would send him right back out into the bedroom proper.
“Now, we could use the plug, but that was meant as a sexual device. There is no need to keep you full of seminal fluid which only acts as transport.”
You saw mental images of Pong play out and realized he would soon be heading straight back towards you.
“A more useful and adjacent device would be a conception cap, but I wonder about its necessity as my sperm are tenacious…”
You adjusted your stance and waited.
“We can reconsider going forward if our current methods don't prove fruitful.” He made the final pivot in your direction. “For now, we will begin with this schedule.”
Before he reached you a calendar appeared in your face.
It marred your vision and kept you from seeing those strange fragments.
You gave a small sigh.
“Something wrong?” He swiped your screen to the side so he could better see you. “I debated a separate calendar from our usual, but it made more sense to combine them. Why waste time going out to dinner when we could put our hours to better use filling you with my seed?”
Your stomach flipped and you almost forgot about your other quest. “T-that’s not…”
He waited.
You shook your head and further moved the screen to step into his space.
Holograms broke up around you and you reached out toward the floating oddities.
“What are these?”
Donnie’s arm lowered and, with it, his screens collapsed. “I have been pushing the limits of my ninpo.”
“This is your ninpo?” You tapped the small block and it was indeed solid.
“Yes. My mysticism forms via construction. It is what I understand. However, it is also a manifestation. I have reason to believe that I can integrate it into my technology.”
“You want that?” You cupped your palms under it as if to hold the pieces. “Your tech is amazing. Would the ninpo make it better?”
“My screens now are hologram projections. They come from a knowable source. Though they are expertly encrypted, there is still a chance they could be hacked. Mystic technology, in theory, has no system to stem from. It is being projected from my very being. A completely uncrackable network!”
You sought Donnie’s eyes with growing amazement. “Oh… When you put it like that…”
He nodded enthusiastically. “I can replace everything with complete safety.”
Within your palm, you watched the pixels shift ever so slightly.
“However, data is intangible. While you say you build a system, you are instead writing the basis for it. I can visualize the code, but not its weight. There is a current disconnect between such so I have a simple form of a router up for the time being. I am feeding the connection from my tech gauntlet through my ninpo before it reaches the usual old screens. I am hoping it will help inspire said information to display as if it were a computer and I can then cut out the middle man.”
“Your gauntlet…” You let the ninpo go and moved to touch the device on his wrist.
“I have no plans to stop wearing or using it. My ninpo requires focus and tapping energy of which I have little stamina for. It is another facet of the router manifestation. Raphael described mystic arts as any other muscle to be trained. Thus I try to keep some form of ninpo up when I can and for as long as I am able.”
“Right… The tech’ll be a backup if you’re ever out of commission.”
“I suppose…” Donnie had an interested edge to him.
You fluttered your lashes as you waited for him to elaborate.
He churred into your space, but didn’t make contact. “It’s mysticism. Its rules are infuriating. Who’s to say I am limited in that way? I aim to create lasting constructions.”
“Donatello, my love, always pushing boundaries.” You spoke wistfully.
He lavished in the praise with closed lids before he straightened his posture.
“Speaking of lasting constructions…”
He eyed you and brought the screens back up.
“Let’s say I didn’t hear anything after you mentioned my period being over… How would you feel about repeating everything…?” You grinned.
His patience for you didn’t seem to have a limit though he did have minor scorn as he started his explanation over.
-
You were giddy as you stood outside of your own front door. Adjusting your clothes for about the third time, you debated your entry. You were spoiled for choice, but wanted to make this occasion special. Per Donnie’s planning, today marked the window just before your ovulation. It was the crossroads section in which his sperm would stay alive within you and be ready to inseminate the moment it became possible.
You had both also agreed to stave off sex until today. It was a paltry three day window and you had joked about Donnie saving up. As he was these days, he had bitter corrections for any perpetuated mythos. He was a regular sex ed teacher and explained that while it was possible that certain abstinence could lead to increased sperm counts, the ejaculate would contain older, less agile emissions. It was under his scrutiny that you agreed to only wait to enhance this moment.
A giddy countdown now had you shaking with the thrill and your entry.
Should you come in sultry and swing your belongings out of the way while announcing yourself?
Would Donnie be waiting to sweep you off your feet?
Would you not make it to the bedroom?
Would there be a line of candles and flower petals guiding your way?
Running through every scenario, you abandoned them all in favor of the door knob. It turned for you and you pushed against the wood. It revealed your apartment and you didn’t immediately notice anything had changed. It looked like your usual home and your lips parted to announce your presence.
Before you could speak, your husband stepped out so he was across from your entry.
He was the picture of dichotomy.
From his posture and squared shoulders, he was ready.
From his stance, he could not be knocked down.
From where his hands lazily flopped back to his sides, it said he’d been wringing them.
From the pinched lines of his face and the faded look to his pupil, he was tightly wound with nerves.
All of him read an equal amount of excited and nervous.
You forgot all about some fancy entrance and moved to your mate.
He accepted you as your bag fell to the ground. His willingness to give himself over read as an emotional scar and you swept over his shirt. It was something plain he’d probably been in all day and, upon finding nothing of note, you coasted up to his cheek. His head tipped into your palm and you felt your affection swallow you whole. “Hello, sweet. You hanging in there?”
“I should have asked you to take today off…” He spoke with sorrow.
“We’re saving that for ovulation day.” You reminded him.
“I know…” His hands trended beneath yours. “That’s why I didn’t.”
You nodded and curled your fingers to pull him down.
He resisted at first, his eyes darting to commit you to memory before he lowered.
He came with a winding and you met him for a kiss.
It struck as mellow in comparison to everything you had seen. He seemed to smile at your confusion and pressed into you to make his intention known. What came then was tenderness, but those nerves still slipped beneath it. You wanted to ask why, but the glowing embers against his lips spoke of how deep his desire was. You imagined maybe he had a fear of how deep his carnal desires could go. He was finally exercising his top kink in its truest form. It seemed obvious that he'd be afraid he might consume you.
It reminded you of an old line from your first date about a bear. It struck you how you had long become equally as voracious as him and you channeled that ferocity. The surge of both your body and emotion knocked him back a step. Drunk off the power to ruffle the master, you pursued him as much as he would allow. He soon got his feet stabilized which meant you were a tiny powerhouse against the pylon of his body. His form held steady, allowing you whatever wanton destruction you craved that wasn’t his person.
It came in the form of his clothes which you twisted up and pulled at. He bent for you, coming down enough so you could yank his top off and knocked his glasses in the process. He chuckled at your need, but gave no recompense. It left you as the one-sided onslaught and you pantsed him in retaliation.
When you came up from shoving his waistband down, he only had an arched brow that sarcastically challenged your childish move.
You tittered at the sight, playing it off. “Here? Couch? Bed…?”
He looked over each spot as if he had all the time in the world.
His bond barely concealed how much his emotion begged to differ.
You put out a sort of sigh and trended to his right.
“I’ve been bombarded with info lately…” You mourned and slid a forlorn hand across his wraps. “Intro to baby making.”
He watched you circle him.
You made sure to keep a teasing digit on him at all times. “A long winded separation ig facts and old wives tales…”
You appeared on his other side and he continued to track you.
“No sex position increases odds, but deep penetration is good. Whatever gets the sperm closest to the cervix…” You stopped at his front and sighed again.
You saw his fingers twitch as he withheld himself.
“Hard to push you into missionary if you aren’t going to help…” You kept your eyes to his plastron and followed scute lines with your fingertips.
You felt his head move as he tried to view your path.
You caught him with his neck bent forward as you snapped your attention up. “You really want to finally knock me up with me on top?”
You watched his pupils adjust to the prospect.
There was the language.
You told him that he was going to participate regardless.
There was the insinuation.
As it had all day, today was the day it was finally teetering on dangerous to fuck.
There was the challenge.
Was he going to be passive?
In one fluid motion, he dropped his center of gravity.
Excitement exploded in your belly and his elbows snapped akimbo. They led as his hands slid up into your shirt in a perfect slide. Smooth prints teased your spine and had you arching as he got to your bra. It took a single trace to the clasp and he barely had to flick to undo it. It was then, with a lift, that your entire upper ensemble was headed upward. You scrambled to lift your arms and just barely saved your chin from catching the fabric.
He hovered over you like a dance and your spine wilted dangerously from how much real estate he commanded. He beamed you a million watt smile before you heard the fabric plop onto the floor. The textures struck you and his arms came down to press into the curve of your back. He kept you safely dipped like a dancer there with one hand while the other danced around your front. It felt over your belly before a single digit found interest in your fly.
It worked expertly with a twist and flick until he was able to undo your trousers. They slacked open in the fold and he skimmed with that single hand around your waistband as if testing its tensile strength. The backs of your thighs burned from the weight distribution and your neck ached from having to hold up against gravity. Donnie only surveyed the curve of your body with faint flicks of his gaze as he instead focused on circling your hips.
With a sudden hook of his thumb, he levied half your bottoms and shoved down. The other side clung and it took a clean swipe from the opposite direction to catch them. He moved in a seesaw that had his thumb nail skimming more sensitive skin as he rocked your pants and underwear down. By the time they fell, your legs were threatening to do the same and only then did he scoop you up.
It was into his arms and you kicked out socked feet in glee as he carried you to bed. He perched you on the edge and the titillation pumped through your veins as he squatted in front of you. It sent you right back to imagery of your first night together and your inner muscles clenched onto that excitement.
“You are well aware of what we are about to get into.”
You nodded.
“Are you ready?”
“Very much so.”
“Show me, love.”
You gathered your knees and adjusted your positions. Already perched, you moved your pelvis forward as your shoulders came back. Your arms compensated for yet another lean, though this one was cushioned by a mattress. It read comfortable as your hands fisted the sheets and you split your legs to present for him.
He took you in with all his senses. It first came with the visual sight even though you could tell you were far from glistening. Excitement had only taken you so far, but he was completely enamored by your sex. He surveyed you with his exploding pupils before he reached, compelled. His warm finger skirted your outer lips and he pressed to see how engorged they were with blood. Arousal meant there was a heated layer and the cooler air of the room lapped at you in time with the way he licked his lips.
You rolled your hips eager and he lowered his head for his next sense. It was smell, and you’d grown accustomed to his scenting. He’d been sniffing you shamelessly in his daily examinations and it always looked to you like a master sommelier. His lips would part, letting the scent inhale deeply through his nostrils and cascade down his tongue. You imagined he picked up all sorts of notes that you couldn’t as he trended closer.
He breathed out then in and it was with one last striking whiff that nosed lightly at your clit. The tip of his beak invaded you for touch and your voice pitched behind warbled lips. He flicked a scolding glance up at you for trying to muffle your noises and when your mouth opened it was to breathily pant. He found that suitable and returned to his nosing. He was scenting, you could tell, but there was no snuffle. It was a slow and even thing meant to relish and, even though you couldn’t see him, you felt the moisture differently when his jaw parted.
You arched in time and met his tongue. A dainty tip, he mapped your folds first as if he didn’t already know your anatomy down to the cellular level. He gave a base level tasting lap and you whined at the lack of targeting. You watched his eyes surface in a rolling fashion and you frowned when you caught sight of him. He smiled against your cunt before pressing into your heat with his eyes still questioning you.
You mewled for him and it seemed like a satisfactory answer because he dove in. You puffed open relief as he licked into you with the accuracy you craved. He long knew exactly how to manipulate you on his tongue and you tossed your head back to give yourself over to him.
You jolted when he suddenly grabbed your feet.
In a tug, he used your surprise to throw you off balance and you fell onto your back. The bed was completely forgiving and you stared up at the canopy for exactly one second before his tongue shifted. He latched onto your clit in your toe tingling way and you barely cared he was still doing something to your feet. You imagined he was operating comical heavy machinery where the levers were your limbs because of the jarring push and pull of his movements.
His things swiped down and he hit some sort of pressure point in both your arches that ripped a moan from you. He slicked downward, dragging your growing wet on his tongue to taste and stimulate you. You squirmed, trying to get more, but he pushed your knees to fold. Your legs came, bent at the knee, and he shifted his weight to pour more over you. It pressed your thighs closer to your torso and you recognized the move even though it had been a long time since he last exercised it.
The mating press.
You chirped wanton for him at the thought and he churred straight into your sex at your revelation. You gave your mating call in aching need, but he demanded a bit more of you. It came with a swirling of his mouth and just enough suction that you could feel your insides weeping. The drip caused an audible pop when he unlatched that you could only hear as the final sense, sound, and he panted from what you imagined was a full assault of his senses. He then appeared, moving to stand in a growing form with your combined soaks painting his chin.
The moment he hit his full height was the same time you saw the bob of his cock. It bounced with him and hung a flag over your sex. You heaved a single time at the sight of it and were struck with one single thought:
This was going to get you pregnant.
A mating call warped off your lips before another slammed it out of the way. You couldn’t stop yourself as it sounded again and again on what hit your ears as a nagging repeat. The pitch was off and feral like a cat in heat. You ached for him, head lifting in the process and he only stared at your wanting form.
“D-Donnie…!” You finally managed amongst his seeming neglect. “P-please!”
He nodded and swept over you in what felt like a final moment.
Like you’d never be like this again.
Like something monumental was about to shift.
He then lowered enough to scoop up under your ass and scoot you forward. It made room for his knees and you continued to call out to him. He shushed you with a sharp mating response of his own and you bit down on your lip to try to stave off more. He was taking too long in his adjustments, but you knew there was purpose. You knew first hand how precarious the position could be. Your body was fully trapped beneath his while also being folded. It contracted and compressed your very being, but also made it so his pelvis could be aimed above yours. It also meant you had a full view of how his cock dangled down, scorched and ready to sear you.
Your vision honed in on the glisten of his member and trailed down where his tip pearled a perfect bead of pre.
Another mating call wormed up your throat which was decimated into a squeak as he pressed his glans to you. The heat felt like a boiling threat and you waited for him to plunge. Instead he continued to cater to his alignment before he rolled his hips so his cock ran against you. On your back and neck twisted in a position to view him, you saw his glans face you before they rolled backwards in their stroke. The oar of them flared there, returned once again, and then disappeared to catch your hole.
You wanted to sob at the torturous pace, but he so close.
“Please!” You shouted in spite of yourself.
He didn’t respond at all and only focused on a testing press.
It wasn’t enough to breach you and you groaned as loud as you could.
He chirped lightly, something faint and weary that you couldn't think much on before he wound upwards once and then descended.
Your eyes flew open and you watched as each delicious centimeter of him sank into your cunt. There was a pulse to your lips that marked the spread and soak as they peeled apart to grant him entry. He disappeared further, feeding into you and beading up your discharge. It cropped a creamy spill that pressed out at his size and clung around your entrance waiting for further use. His member widened, spreading toward the base of the knot and you saw the stretch of your lips grow taut.
He was then fully sheathed after what felt like hours and your head fell back. You panted lightly, all a mental exertion and felt sweat dot your brow. You were rushing, you knew. It was the incessant need and the many years built up to this moment. As he held in place, you saw all the rushing times you’d tried to devour each other. This wasn’t that and spoke to something far deeper. It roused you to be more present and you found him trying to look at your connection. His proportions meant he couldn’t and he lifted his head with the intent of a question pouring off him.
He wanted to know what it was like and you told him that it was quite the view. He churred a vibration that you felt dip inside you. You willed him to know that more would be better and he agreed to pull back the slightest amount. Your cunt clung to him, eager lips dragging against his length and each and every vein in an attempt to keep him. He barely made it a few inches before he plunged back in as if he couldn’t stand the cold room temperature. You chuckled at the thought of that sort of cockwarming and he probed your depths in interest at your laugh.
You almost responded until his ministrations found what he was looking for.
You then only gasped in pleasure and the cage of his body finally fell. He met you in a scoop of limbs and you pulled him closer. Your hips cried at the weight, but he rocked in a gentle massaging gesture. It eased the tension and his lips found yours with a roll of his tongue. He tasted and smelled like you. Intoxication clouded your mind and you now, finally this moment, would be the time he'd give way to fuck you.
You broke your lip lock to pepper excitement across his face. He scrubbed into it, his beak moving side to side to catch all your little pecks. He tittered in a melodic chirp and joy caused your cunt to pulse. It warped a sound of almost paint off his lips and he melded your pelvises into a single shape as if to squash it.
“Not gonna last…” He whined suddenly.
“That’s…” You spoke before you fully understood his words.
How was that possible?
He hadn't thrusted even once.
He held deathly still and you moved your neck to view him.
Humiliation painted his feature and he would have tucked himself away if he could.
Sense exploded past your horny thoughts for the first time.
He had showed all the signs.
That's why he'd been anxious at the door.
That's why he hadn't rushed to fuck you.
That’s why he had been going so slow.
It wasn’t just to mark the occasion.
It wasn't because he feared his ferality.
It was a startling amount of awareness that threatened him.
As much as you did, he knew what today was and what it meant.
It made him so consciously excited that it went straight to his head.
He had been trying to stave off losing himself in a totally new way.
An excited noise hummed in your throat.
He saw your glee and wilted against it.
“N-no!” You nudged him with your nose. “That’s good!”
“No.” He bit back.
“Yes.” You disagreed and extracted an arm from the tangle.
You found his cheek and he soured as there was an inherent movement that bobbed his cock.
“I can count the amount of times you’ve gotten close to cumming before me on one hand.”
He glared at you as if you’d pointed out his greatest failures.
You lightly pinched his cheek. “You’re so excited...”
He frowned deeply.
You kissed his relenting face. “I love you.”
“Please.”
“I do.” You pressed.
“Y/N.”
“How do my orgasmd work with conception again? I can't remember…” You absolutely did, but your partner was being too cute not to tease.
He ducked his head as much as he could.
You were too close for him to hide. “Donnie…?”
He grumbled something.
“What was that…?” You poked his cheek.
“It doesn’t…” He ground out.
“Then what’s the problem? I know you'll make me cum right after you do. Doesn’t it sound hot to pump your finger into me, push the cum deeper, until I’m writhing on it?”
He relented the smallest bit.
“I'm married to Donatello. Cumming is always a guarantee. It's like your customer satisfaction brand.”
“I wanted us together.”
“We can try… Has waiting helped?”
His grimace said not at all.
You moved your hips the slightest amount and the way his dropped to keep you still meant you felt exactly how he clenched to keep from cumming then and there.
“Oh yeah, you’re definitely cumming first.” You smiled.
His eyes closed, hopeless.
“You’re being a grump.” You kissed his cheek.
He let more of his body weight fall onto you in some sort of retribution, but you could only giggle.
“Come on…” You channeled as much energy as you could muster in your ass before you managed to flex.
Your innermost walls shifted around him and he gave a long sultry groan.
“That’s it…” You managed the same spasm with less effort.
He moaned your name.
“My sweet, sweet husband…” You encouraged, pulsing around him over and over.
“I’m going to…!” He panted.
“Go on. Fertilize me. I'm waiting.” You whispered against his head.
He exhaled sharply and you felt all of him twitch in one sharp movement. Where you hadn’t followed the trend of his spread or knot, they both seemed to inflate to their widest mass in a snap instant as he came. You felt each twitch of him as you weren’t in your throes. You pet his head before stroking lower on his carapace to encourage him. You hit a spot that made him buck as he filled you deep.
He eventually breathed again, panting from having witheld, and rolled his head to the side to bump yours.
You rubbed his shell with a heavy hand.
He eventually churred at the feeling and lifted up to appraise you.
You smiled, ever ready for him.
His lids fell in a form of annoyance.
“I’m gonna make you cum until you beg me to stop.”
You pitched an excited noise as he yanked out of you. You felt his essence chase his cock and your limbs were released. You clenched immediately, trying to hold his seed in and he glimpsed the tightening of your sex as he climbed off the bed.
His lips rounded and you saw focus slip from his gaze. You chose then to relax and the rebound flex of your walls squished out his spent. A tiny amount trickled against your labia and you heard Donnie gasp at the sight.
“Finally, right…?” You mused and assumed you were thinking the same thing.
You were finally stuffed with a potent load.
That chance of getting pregnant now existed.
You were both aiming to make it assured.
Donnie lurched forward and you readied yourself for his decree. He would make you cum. You imagined he would play out that scenario you had offered earlier and felt his cum drip to the swell of your ass.
That's where he would start, you thought. He would swipe it up expertly with those thick fingers of his and stuff the seminal fluid or whatever he had called it, back inside. He would then tease you until you were writhing.
A tongue hit hot and wet against your ass cheek causing you to cry out your surprise. Your thighs were grabbed first before giving hands tucked under your body. He hoisted you up to meet his mouth as if there wasn't enough time for him to dip any lower.
Donnie swiped the trail of cum up and licked it straight back into you. His arms locked heavy around your body just in time for him to bury his snout hard into your sex, he breathed heavy desperation as his canines grazed your labia. Your voice hit a near painful pinch and you fought against the onslaught with grabbing hands.
You caught his mask in the fumble and pulled it so the back half lifted and the front blocked his vision. “What are you doing?!”
He sucked hard and you spasmed.
“Ah! Donnie-!” You meant to say more, but he let one of your legs drop to his shoulder so his thumb could strike your clit.
It was flint to steel, the sparks ignited and you cried his name in a new tone. It was no longer a question, but a burning desire. He slurped down noisily and the noise hit your ears to stoke. You were inflamed, rising up further than he was holding you as pressure dipped in and outward in tandem. His thumb swirled loose and comfortable against the slick and he routinely bumped his own nose.
His tongue traveled deep, seeking further in you than ever before and it marked a widening of his jaw. You felt the whole of his mouth encompass you until it pushed even his hand away. His teeth scraped over your punished clit and you screamed out as it sent you over.
It burned you to a white host crisp and the flames engulfed your vision. He pressed forth, seeking to destroy what was already ash on the ground. With one leg still over his shoulder, you snapped a heel down hard in hopes of stopping the siege. Your foot snagged one of his carapace injuries and scrape was enough for him to grunt free.
Knowing he'd lock back on, you bucked hard in your freedom and pelvic thrusted into his beak. It loosened his grip and you slid back to the bed. He held your single leg to his chest as a lifeline while you scrambled to slip your hands into your abused cunt. You did a quick check for blood as his teeth had been piercing. As far as you could tell it was clear from injury, but you glowered up at your mate.
“What was that!? You ate it?!”
He was the portrait of a captured criminal.
His mask was also still comically out of place and you tore it off him to wipe your hands. “What happened?”
He gave a pitiful chirp.
You swatted him with the wetted cloth.
He squirmed in a way that said its feeling repulsed him.
“Donatello!”
“As you’d expect!” He finally animated. “That I finally had a chance! That what was leaking from you had potential!”
“So you suck the potential out of me?!”
“The sperm is unaffected! You referenced the science prior!”
Your eyes flashed. “And I know it! Are you still mad because I didn’t listen one time?!”
“You act as though I insinuated such!”
“Didn’t you?!” You stared him down ready to catch the slightest warp in his expression.
He matched you.
You stood off against each other for several seconds before you deferred.
You then both sat in an awkward heap where you were still spread and he was only half on the bed.
Donnie was the first to move.
“May I?” He asked with lowered lids.
You nodded, granting his request, whatever it was.
He was slow in skimming over you and making his journey known. He moved toward the apex between your legs and you presented for him. He took your willingness in with an emotionally wounded gaze that said he didn’t believe he deserved the kindness. You kneed his chin gently as soon as he was within range.
“It's okay…”
He wasn't as sure yet and only kissed the cap before shimmying downward until he was on his knees off the bed. He leaned forward, his face to your sex, and you felt him looking you over.
You knew he was checking for injury just as you had and he affirmed your health with a kiss to your clit. The sensitive bud felt tender, but his warmth came away like a balm. You exhaled slow and steady until he reappeared at your side. You squirmed further up the bed and he laid down beside you. You immediately glued yourself to him, cuddling close and leaning up for a kiss. He appraised you once before meeting you and it took several until he relaxed.
“Does that consumption offend you as well?”
You chuckled against him. “No, it just felt a little like a slight. Like you just filled me and you took it right away.”
He eyed you and you could feel his scientific correction was looming.
You pushed his plastron. “You know what I’m saying.”
His eyes closed and he shrugged as he did.
“It wasn't what I was expecting, but it wasn't bad. You surprised me.” You held your hand firm to his pectoral scute and flexed your fingers out. “As usual…”
His body went a certain slack.
“We done for tonight…?”
He didn’t move as far as you could tell.
“It’s alright if so… I know that whole ‘make me cum until I beg’ line was you trying to make up for cumming too fast.”
His lip twitched.
“It’s really okay. You lost two kinds of control. That's gotta be overstimulating. I just want to set my expectations.”
“Y/N.”
“Yeah?” You pressed him.
“Look down.”
Your gaze plummeted southward on contact.
All that was there was the mattress and your forearm resting atop sheets where it acted as a bridge between your bodies.
You heard a puff of laughter.
Your gaze shot right back up to see him trying to control giggles.
“I did what you said! Why are you-?!”
He couldn’t manage words and joy crinkled his gaze.
He bobbed and bubbled until he got enough control to flick his pupils down the length of his body. You made a little irritated sound and embarrassment tried to form a complaint on your lips.
He had to cover his mouth. “My mistake. Please look easterly.”
You glowered at him once before glaring in that direction which led down his plastron.
It was the landing strip leading to his pointed purple member. His cock stood at full mass and its pink base had a redder tint than usual. That was typically a shade you only saw during his heat when his member wasn't able to return to the safety of his body. It was nowhere near Donnie’s season which meant instead his erection had persisted.
The reason for which shot straight to your core. “O-Oh…!”
“It hasn’t gone down since we began…” He managed with a weary tone.
“But you came…?” You reached for his cock and it twitched away once before you made contact.
“As you stated, I am entirely too excited…”
You soothed his glans with a stroke.
They undulated under your grip, starving.
“So…?” That latent heat glowed in your cheeks, still smoldering.
“I can't predict when it'll go down.”
“Will you cum just as fast?” You felt excitement manifest as stars in your eyes.
His expression flattened out a bit.
“I want you to.” You tinged your words with those ever present embers. “Cum again and again. I want to wring you dry. We’ll go until it calms down.”
He flushed at how eager you were.
“Just promise I can keep it this time.” You pleaded.
“So you do find cum eating offensive.” His attempt at distracting you from his unease was too obvious.
You shoved him over onto his carapace and mounted him before he could protest.
“Wait-!” He tried to grab your hips.
“Nope. My terms now. You will-” You commanded, got yourself lined up, and sank down his length. “-cum.”
You felt his cock explode on contact with your heat.
“Oh fuck…!” You ground down on his ejaculate.
Donnie whined something high pitched before his throat eked out, “Sworn! No stopping! You call out tomorrow!”
You squealed happily as he rolled your conjoined bodies over to finally fuck you in earnest.
-
You were slow in opening the bathroom door.
It had been hard enough to muster up the energy for you to grab the handle.
Now that you had swiveled it and the mechanism had pulled the bolt back, it felt like painful irony.
One door led to another.
You saw the creak of space that led to your bedroom and with it came the heavy heart.
This was the transition point.
You stepped forward and felt the cotton between your legs.
It was another tangible omen.
It would disappear in time, but for now you were hyperaware.
The aptly named period product marked an end and was sopping up your failure.
One dark red drip at a time.
You walked out to where Donnie was already standing.
You’d left him sitting on the couch.
What had found him first?
The scent or your abysmal feelings through your wedding band?
You didn’t care because either way he knew and as your foot lifted for the next step, he was meeting it with his.
You reached one another, but didn’t connect.
You had to address it.
You stared down at your three feet and one prosthetic.
“Could it… be the implantation bleed?” You whispered as quietly as you could.
It would rob the words of their strength.
Without power, maybe you could convince them otherwise.
You could manifest them into the outcome you wanted and not the one that wasted seven days of trying.
Eighteen days since Donnie had made the calendar.
Twenty-seven days since your new menstrual cycle started.
Except today it reset to one.
“There… is… a chance…?” Donnie tried, his voice as soft as yours.
You both met each other’s eyes in time.
You knew the truth then.
You hadn't gotten pregnant this cycle.
These were only words.
It was the same as before.
Nothing had changed.
Not yet.
1.73%.
💜 NEXT 💜
My body aches today, but my heart always aches with thanks for my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83
#softspotfic#rottmnt#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt x reader#rottmnt donnie x reader#donatello hamato#donnie x reader#rise donnie#rise donnie x reader#rottmnt donatello#rottmnt Donnie#me#fanfiction#my fanfiction
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